


cause & effect

by kuroopaisen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Fake Dating, Fluff, Tags will be updated accordingly, but you'll see, mentions and discussions of divorce, mostly - Freeform, they work through some stuff as it goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroopaisen/pseuds/kuroopaisen
Summary: your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask. unfortunately, that favour includes convincing his family that you’re very much in love with him and have been for a while now. let’s just say it’s easier than you’d assumed.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Comments: 55
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

You plonk a black coffee on Kuroo’s desk, shooting him a wink.

He looks awful. Skin a tad more pallid than normal, dark bags under his eyes, hair even messier than usual. You’re almost ready to believe he’d gone on a bender last night, but you know he’s much too dedicated to his work to do something like that on a Tuesday.

He smiles at you, his chin balanced in one of his hands. You glance at the time in the corner of his computer screen. 8:30 AM. You’re not late.

“Thanks,” he nods before taking a sip of his coffee. He scrunches up his nose for a moment, but he manages to swallow it all down. When he’d told you he didn’t actually _like_ black coffee, you’d asked him why he bothered drinking it. He’d told you that the caffeine kick was like nothing else, and he needed it to get through the day.

That was the moment you’d realised that Kuroo Tetsurou was, in fact, a loser.

“You look exhausted,” you observe, looking him up and down. Kuroo usually looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, but you’d just assumed that was a purposeful choice.

“ _Ouch_ ,” he laughs, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, I’m not being _rude_ ,” you dither at him. “I’m _concerned_.”

“No need to be,” he yawns, scrunching up his nose. “I was just on Kenma’s stream last night.”

You snort. “What, that friend of yours that plays video games for a living?”

Kuroo grins. “That’s the one.”

“How late did you stay up?”

“Oh… like 2 AM,” he shrugs. “That was nothing back in uni, but these days…”

You laugh, shaking your head. What you wouldn’t give for a taste of that youthful neglect for one’s wellbeing. You’re not quite sure when your transition to ‘responsible adult who gets paid a living wage (barely) and who (usually) turns in before 11 PM’ happened, but there’s no going back now.

“Are you hoping to leave this life behind?” You tease, tilting your head at him. “Hoping to become Youtube famous?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he grins. “I’ll earn millions at the height of my career, only to have a humiliating fall from grace when people find out I’m not a very nice person.”

“That’s tragic,” you giggle, turning back to your computer. “Make sure you go out in a blaze of glory for me, okay?”

“Oh, I intend to,” he nods, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “And don’t you worry, I’ll make myself a _very_ lucrative merch line designed to exploit my followers for all their worth.”

His work phone starts ringing with a vengeance.

Kuroo shoots you a dithering look. You just mouth ‘good luck’ as he picks up the offending object.

“Japan Volleyball Association, sports promotion division,” Kuroo stifles a yawn as he holds the phone to his ear. “How may I help you today?”

You bite your lip as you watch him. He’s nodding and humming – typical fare for a phone call.

“I’m sorry, could you please repeat that sir?” He says with a frown.

He catches your eye, and you take the opportunity to stick your tongue out at him. A grin spreads across his face slowly as he shakes his head.

You tilt your head to the side, wondering what this specific interlocutor was after.

Kuroo gives you _that_ look; the one that said the person on the other end of this phone line was bonkers. 

“Forgive me for being so bold, sir, but are you asking me if we’d accept a large sum of money to _remove_ a competitor’s logo from our advertisements?”

You raised your eyebrows at him. That’s certainly a new one.

Kuroo clears his throat. “No, no, sir, I’m not accusing you of anything.”

You can hear some chatter from the other end of the phone, but none of it’s legible.

They go back and forth for a while as you sip your drink, watching as Kuroo’s patience wears ludicrously thin. That late night must be _really_ getting to him.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’ll have to refer you to someone higher up,” Kuroo sighs, two fingers massaging his temple. “I’m in no position to deal with this in a way you would find acceptable.”

At that, he presses a button on the phone’s **interface** , officially making this customer ‘not his problem.’

“What was _that_?” You ask, leaning towards him.

Kuroo rolls his eyes, stretching over the back of his chair. “I don’t know. It’s too early for this…”

You reach over to pat his shoulder. “There, there.”

He chuckles. “It’s only, what? Just past 8:30? I didn’t think I’d get an asshole so early.”

“Maybe god hates you.”

“His loss.”

You laugh, opening your mouth to respond.

Your own work phone rings. Your mood significantly drops.

Kuroo winks at you. “Into the fray.”

You sigh, picking it up. “Japan Volleyball Association, sports promotion division. How may I help you?” 

Answering calls, bargaining with sponsors, checking statistics … they may not have been the most exciting of activities, but they were part of a day’s work. It’s not exactly where you saw yourself ending up after university, but you aren’t going to snub your nose at your chance for a steady income.

Sharing a cubicle with Kuroo, at least, made things a bit more bearable.

In fact, he’d helped you settle in. On your very first day, when you were gripped with nerves and doubt, Kuroo had plonked a green tea on your desk with a warm smile. That had become a little bit of a habit, with whoever was slated to get to work last turning up with caffeine for two.

Frankly, he’d terrified you a bit, at first; you feel bad about it _now_ , but when someone was that tall and that… intimidating, you couldn’t help it.

But, he’d disarmed you quite quickly, and willingly offered himself up as your port of call in this new tempest of a workplace. And for that, you would always be grateful to him.

You check the time. 11:15 AM. You turn to your cubicle mate, tapping him on the shoulder.

He looks over at you, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m going to go get lunch. Did you want anything?”

Kuroo spins around in his chair, standing up to full height. You often forgot just how tall he was, the bastard. “I’ll come with you, if you’d like.”

“Uh… sure.”

He tells you about the stream on the short walk to the boba shop, which is just tucked around the corner. Apparently, his friend had managed to raise the equivalent of twenty-one million yen.

“My charm and good lucks account for at least a third of those millions,” he assured you.

You didn’t quite believe that. You had a feeling that it had more to do with that Black Jackals player Kenma was purportedly close to.

Kuroo sighs as he holds the door of the boba shop open for you, ushering you inside. “Ladies first.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, ducking under his arm and into the crowded little store. The cold isn’t enough to drive off the large throng of customers. If anything, it looked more busy than usual. But, more and more people seem to flow through Tokyo as the year’s end draws closer.

The two of you stand in line, huddled just inside the warmth of the boba shop at the end of a long line.

“So,” Kuroo swallows, his gaze particularly interested in the ceiling. “I have… a favour, to ask.”

“I’m not covering shifts for you.”

“Not that,” he shakes his head, digging his hands deep in his pockets. “It’s, uh… it’s a bit more personal.”

You look up at him, blinking. “You sound like you’re asking me to help you commit a murder.”

“Not quite.”

“Not _quite_?!”

“I just mean that I’m asking you to do something that’s a little morally bankrupt.” He still hasn’t looked directly at you yet.

“Kuroo, you’re going to give me a panic attack.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he shakes his head again. He looks like he’s about to ask you something quite serious; frightening, even. You’re not used to seeing such a solemn look on his face. It scares you.

He takes a deep breath. “Can you pretend to be my girlfriend for the next month or so?”

It takes a moment for the question to properly click in your mind.

“I’m sorry, _what_?”


	2. Chapter 2

“Just for the holiday period,” he says, almost reflexively.

“Can’t you just… get a girlfriend?” You snort, raising an eyebrow at him. It shouldn’t be _too_ hard for a guy like him, right? “I’m sure _someone_ ’ll date you just because you’re tall.”

“I _will_. When I have _time_ ,” Kuroo grins, shaking his head. “I’m a working man, you know. And haven’t you seen all those surveys on just how lonely we Japanese men are? Truly, it’s tragic.”

You snort, looking him up and down. Somehow, you just can’t imagine him not getting at least a little attention. And you’ve heard people whisper about him during coffee breaks and in bathrooms. If he wants someone to play at being his girlfriend, you’re sure some of the women at the office would do a much better job than you can. They’d at least have the adoring gaze down pat.

“Why do you need a girlfriend?” You ask.

“Fake girlfriend.”

“Whatever,” you grin, rolling your eyes. 

He sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. You wonder if he ever brushes it.

“My grandma keeps setting me up for _miai_ meetings.”

You blink at him, your eyes large and owlish. “Really? _Miai_ meetings?”

Kuroo nods.

Now, that was unexpected. “You’re the first person I’ve met whose done those.”

Kuroo chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s not willingly, trust me…”

You bite your lip. You know it’s a thing that happens, and you know that it might even work for some people. But the thought of Kuroo sitting through a _miai_ when he was this young… God, that made you feel old. And you really weren’t.

“But you’re only twenty-four.” You don’t _mean_ to say it, but it slips out.

Kuroo doesn’t seem to take offense. He shrugs. “They’re worried I’m getting lonely or something.”

“Are you?”

Kuroo grins, raising an eyebrow at you. “That’s a bit forward, isn’t it?”

“Well if I’m going to pretend to be your _girlfriend_ , I’ll have to know these kinds of things, won’t I?” You scoff.

“If you’re going to pretend to be my _girlfriend_ , then whether or not I’m lonely won’t matter,” he says.

You bite your tongue at that.

You turn the idea over in your head a few times. Pretending to date Kuroo Tetsurou…

It’s not the worst thing you can think of. He’s pleasant to spend time with, and he’s a nice guy. You know that a few people in your office might be a little jealous of the fact that you’ve been granted this opportunity; you’re almost ready to say yes based off that alone.

But, something’s stopping you. Something prodding at the back of your mind.

“Isn’t it a bit…” You pause, biting your lip.

“A bit…”

“You know…” You wave a hand at him, searching for the words. Everything is too mild or too intense. “Ethically dubious to lie to your family about this?” You look up at him as you ask, apprehension evident in your face.

Kuroo sighs, chewing on his lip. “I mean… Yeah, I guess.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected him to be so frank.

“But…” His brow creases, and suddenly he looks a couple years older. “I don’t want them worrying about me over the Christmas break. I want them to be able to have fun and not stress themselves into an early grave just because I have bad luck with women.”

You laugh at that.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at you in response.

Was that… not a joke? But surely… He has the aunties at the office wrapped around his finger. And that’s not even touching on the younger women who also consider him quite the catch.

But you don’t miss the bit about his family. How he wants them to relax. And as you look at his face, you can see that he means every word. There’s an almost painful sincerity etched across every feature, and his head bends towards you in such a way that he looks like he’s about to bow.

You digress. “I’m not sure…”

“Please.” He almost sounds like he’s pleading. “My _obaa-chan_ is a really good cook. It’ll be worth your time.”

You ignore how your heart goes _thump-thump_ at the fact he just referred to his grandmother as, ‘my _obaa-chan_.’

You’re not sure if it’s the right thing to do.

Kuroo almost sounds desperate. But isn’t it bad to give people false hope, especially in a situation like this? Lying to his family about his love life? But then again, he could very well bring a _real_ romantic prospect home, only to break up with them once Christmas is over.

Not that he’s the type of guy to just pick up a girl and exploit her like that. Well, maybe he is; but he’s never seemed that way to you. And hell, he could’ve just asked you out under false pretences, but instead he was being upfront about this.

But then again…

“I’ll buy you boba for a year.”

You pause, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

Now _that’s_ a proposition.

“You sure?” You ask, looking up at him.

He pauses for a moment, his brow furrowing. “I have a feeling I’ll come to regret it, but sure.”

You grin, the weight of twelve months’ worth of boba expenses flying off your shoulders. “It’s a deal.”

Kuroo’s shoulders slump forward as he lets out a sigh of relief.

You chuckle, patting him on the back. “That nervous, huh?”

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you’d said no.”

“Couldn’t you have just roped someone else into it?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

Kuroo shakes his head. “No. I thought it’d be most believable with you.”

Your heart stutters at that.

“I didn’t mean anything by that.” The words tumble out like an avalanche on a mountainside, tripping over each other on their way down. “I just, I meant that… that we get along pretty well, so…”

You wave a hand at him, offering him a tight smile. “It’s okay. I get it.”

You don’t, really. But he visibly relaxes at the lie.

You look at the boba shop around you. The line has barely moved. You wonder if you’ll actually be able to get your milk tea before your break runs out.

“It’ll only be a couple of gatherings, I promise,” Kuroo murmurs, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he yawns.

You nod. In all honest, you’re not quite sure what you’ve just signed up for. What ‘fake dating’ even entails. But when Kuroo looks at you with such gratitude, you can’t find the caution in your heart to regret saying ‘yes’.


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, so,” you sigh, slamming your pint down on the bar. Kuroo barely flinches. “What do I actually have to _do_?”

It’s been a few days since Kuroo asked you for that favour. A few days over which you could’ve reconsidered. Thought about how ludicrous it was. But, you’re still willing to do it, for whatever godforsaken reason.

But as you sit in the local bar, a frequent Saturday night haunt for the two of you, your doubts are bubbling back up. They have been over the last few days. Would you be able to pull this off? Would you make a mess of everything? Would his family figure it out _immediately_? What would the consequences of that even be? ****

“Just pretend that you like me,” he shrugs, grinning at you. “That shouldn’t be _too_ hard for you.”

You’re not sure if that’s an insult, a flirt, or both. You shoot him a look. “I’m going to need to polish my acting skills.”

Kuroo places a hand on his chest, eyebrows raised in mock offense.

You smile, shaking your head. “Okay, so I’ve got to pretend like I’m into you. For how long?”

“Just the holiday period,” he says, taking a sip of his beer. “Then you’re free to go.”

“Am I… spending Christmas with your family?” You ask. It’s not the biggest deal, but it’s something you’d need to warn your own family about.

Kuroo shakes his head. “Not the day. Just a couple of dinners, a couple of get-togethers, so that they get off my back for a while.”

You bite your lip. It’s not a massive ask, but it still feels… wrong. Like you’re lying to people. Well, you _are_ , but it’s supposedly for a good cause. But your slightly tipsy brain is having a hard time justifying it to yourself. Why’d you always have to get so damn preachy when you’d had a bit to drink?

“You okay?” He asks, tilting his head at you. There’s genuine concern in his eyes. You don’t know why that surprises you.

“It’s just…” You take a deep breath, clenching your fists in your lap. “Isn’t it a bit unethical?” You’d said that a few days ago.

Kuroo sighs. “Yeah, it is.” 

You stare at him with wide eyes. You’d expected him to defend himself, but no. He’s being straightforward.

He holds his hands out in front of him, his brow slightly burrowed. “Think of it as the lesser of two evils.”

“What do you mean?”

“Either we do this unethical little fake-dating thing and make my family happy because of something that’s not real, _or_ I let them down once again, and make their holiday season more stressful.”

“And… pretending you have a girlfriend is the lesser of two evils?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It might not be real, but it’ll make them happy for a few weeks.”

“You really _are_ a con-man,” you scoff, shaking your head.

“Now that’s just uncalled for,” he chuckled. “But, I get it. And if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to.”

He’s said that a lot. But you’ve never taken the out.

“I’m happy to do it,” you say slowly, carefully. Were you stupid? Why weren’t you running at every opportunity?

Relief floods his face and he smiles. It’s a relaxed kind of smile, one that’s flattered by the dim lights of the bar. You don’t let yourself look at it too long, lest your tipsy mind goes somewhere it shouldn’t.

“Okay, well next order of business,” he hums, turning to face you more directly. “We need to establish some boundaries.”

You blink at him. “Boundaries?” It felt a bit like you were finding out the hidden clauses of a contract _after_ you’d signed it.

“I don’t want to do anything that’ll make you uncomfortable,” he begins, each word slow and methodical. He doesn’t usually speak like this. That’s worrying.

“Right,” you nod.

“But we’ve got to make this look real, right?” He says, the slightest of flush in his cheeks. You can’t tell if it’s because of what he’s just said or if the beer is finally kicking in.

Shit. You hadn’t thought of that.

“So…” He clears his throat, averting his gaze. You do the same. “What _aren’t_ you comfortable with?”

You pause on that question, biting your lip. “Uh… I mean… I guess don’t do anything that you wouldn’t do in front of your family anyway.”

“Right…” He nods slowly. “Is there… anything else?”

“I… I guess you can hold my hand?” You offer, shrugging. Honestly, it’s been a while since you’ve dated anyone. What did casual affection even look like.

Kuroo looks at you with the same expression he has when on the phone to a particularly difficult customer. ****

“What’s wrong?” You have half a mind to put your hand on his shoulder, but you stop yourself.

“Can I kiss your cheek?” He says it so quickly it’s basically one word.

“If you need to?” You can’t believe this is a real conversation you’re having.

“Right,” he nods, turning his attention back to his pint. At least he’s just as embarrassed as you were.

You don’t know what to say now. You’re just sitting next to him at the bar, confused about what the fuck is going on. You’d agreed to this time and time again, but you’re still not totally sure if this is the right thing to do. But it was too late to change your mind now. ****

“By the way,” he says, clearing his throat. “If you ever want or need to back out, you absolutely have the right to.”

You nod. It’s like he read your mind. It makes you feel at least a little better, all things considered.

“Thank you,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say.

He nods in response, taking another sip of his beer. God, this was awkward.

You watch him for a moment, a new concern brewing in the back of your mind. “Hey, Kuroo?”

“Hm?”

“If we’re going to convince your family this is real, we’ll actually need to get to know each other, right?” It feels stupid to say it, but that feels like an essential flaw in his plan. “Like, as a couple would know each other. Not… not work colleagues.”

He thinks it over for a moment, a frown deepening on his face. “You know what? My family is pretty perceptive.”

“I figured,” you smile. You’re not sure if any other kind of person could’ve raised the man sitting next to you.

“Right,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s a little more ruffled than usual – his entire demeanour is, actually. He’s always got a laidback vibe, but Kuroo on a Saturday night had a certain laissez-faire that you still aren’t used to. But you’ll have to.

“What’s the plan?” You ask, propping your chin on your hand.

“We could fill out questionnaires and give them to each other,” he shrugs.

You snort. “What, and study them?”

“I guess?”

“Is your family going to put me through a pop quiz?”

“They might just,” he chuckles.

You roll your eyes. Bless that, but you’re not going to sit there and memorise facts about this man like you would for a geography exam. “ _Or_ , maybe we should just go on actual ‘fake dates’.”

He blinks at you for a moment, his cheeks growing slightly darker. “Actual fake dates?”

Admittedly, you’re not quite sure what separates a ‘fake’ date from a real one. How you and Kuroo going out together would constitute one and not the other.

“What I mean is,” you clear your throat, trying to backtrack, “we should just hang out a bit more before I meet your family.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” he nods. “If you’re comfortable with that.”

“Well, I’m the one who suggested it,” you smile. His concern for your comfort and wellbeing is endearing, if nothing else.

“Alright,” he nods. “Well… I’ve got your number.”

“That you do.”

“And… I’ll text you,” he says, slightly more confident than he was a couple of minutes ago. “And we’ll organise something.”

“Just make sure it’s fun,” you grin.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m offended you think I’d propose anything less.”

“Sorry,” you roll your eyes, but the tension in your chest is easing. “I’m expecting big things.”

“Don’t forget I’m in a wage job,” he grins, tapping his glass. “I can only afford one of these tonight.”

“Is this you letting me know that you won’t pay for my dinner?” You run a hand through your hair, smiling.

“I’ll keep it a surprise,” he smiles, stretching his arms over his head. “Just don’t get your hopes up.”

That feels more like a warning than it should. “I’ll do my best.”


	4. Chapter 4

You sip the hot _sake_ with a grimace. It’s not _bad_ per se, just… different.

For a restaurant whose whole gimmick was hot _sake_ , you’re surprised it clashes so much with your meal. But at least it brought you a little warmth.

Kuroo’s having as strange a time as you are. Each sip of his _sake_ is accommodated with a grimace. Somehow, it makes him look a couple years younger.

Your legs are tucked under the futon attached to your table, but admittedly there’s not much room. Kuroo’s legs are far too long and the _kotatsu_ much too cramped.

“Give me some room, would you?” You grin, nudging him with your knee.

“Oh, sorry,” Kuroo chuckles, adjusting himself.

This isn’t the first fake date you’ve been on with Kuroo. Well, they weren’t _dates_ – not technically. The purpose of them was to get to know each other better; something you’d both agreed was important if you were going to pull this whole thing off.

You’d never really thought about it before, but there’s a lot of mundane information shared in relationships. Things you might not think to mention to other people, or even things you haven’t told anyone else. Not that you were saying any of that to each other – you just need to be convincingly close.

You are going to meet his family, after all.

“So,” you sigh, setting your cupon the _kotatsu_ , “you lived with your dad, your grandmother, and your grandfather?”

“Mhm,” he nods.

“And I need to stay on my toes around them?”

“ _Oh_ yeah,” Kuroo grins. “Chances are they’ll tease the hell out of you if they get comfortable enough.”

“Great,” you chuckle.

“You’ll be fine,” he smiles. “I’m sure they’ll love you.”

“You sure?”

“Chances are they’ll tell you you’re too good for me.”

“Maybe I am,” you smirk, taking another sip of sake.

Kuroo scoffs. “Brutal!”

You’re not sure if he can tell you’re lying. He’s handsome, clever, and witty enough to be entertaining. You’d feel lucky to have a guy like him look your way.

 _Oh well_ , you think as you place your hands in your lap. You’re quite happy to keep that thought to yourself. There’s no good reason to feed a man’s ego.

He stretches his arms above his head, groaning. You swear you can hear his bones cracking.

“You sound like an old man,” you grin.

“Look, it’s not my fault the human body is badly designed.”

“Ah, so it’s not _your_ fault for not looking after it properly, hm?” Perhaps he has a point. But you have to make your own fun these days.

“I’ll have you know I take _very_ good care of my body, thank you very much.”

You’re not sure if he intended it to sound so flirtatious, but you blush anyway.

“Your bones say otherwise,” you muse.

“I won’t stand for this abuse,” he grins, standing up. “You ready?”

You follow suit, scampering after him as he approaches the cashier.

As always, he pays. No matter how hard you try to protest, he just smiles and says he feels bad for taking up your evenings.

You don’t know a casual way to say that you actually enjoy these outings.

Your solution is just buy him fancier coffees in the morning.

Kuroo deals with the transaction in the same smooth and charming way he always does, and you’re sure he’s definitely made an imprint on the dear cashier’s memory.

It’s only late afternoon, but the sky is already darkening. The trees that line the street are speckled with fairy lights, already glowing like candles in the dim twilight.

You gaze at them with a tiny sense of wonder. You’ve heard the theory that people made winter a time of celebration to give them something to pull through the dark and the cold for. Maybe that’s true – but there’s always such beauty to be find during wintertime, even if it feels like the tip of your nose is about to fall out.

Fairy lights in a tree are so small, so inconsequential, and yet so human.

You shake your head. That’s the _sake_ talking.

You turn to Kuroo to say something.

He’s peering at you intently, eyes roaming your face.

You blush, unsure what to make of that look. Is there something on your face? “Everything okay?”

“The lighting’s good here.”

You frowned. “Huh?”

Kuroo fishes his phone out of his pocket, taking a step towards you and hovering an arm above your shoulders.

“You all good to take a photo?” He asks, and it clicks.

“Oh! Right!” You nod, almost a little too fervently. “Sure.”

He smiles, slinging his arm across your shoulders. You lean into him, tilting your face to what you believe to be your best angle.

Sure, these photos are technically ‘fake’, but that doesn’t mean you can’t look your best.

He snaps a couple of photos of the two of you before opening his gallery. The two of you take a moment to observe the handful of images.

The two of you may not _really_ in a relationship, but you’re sure these photos could fool you.

You point at one of them, nodding. “That one looks good.”

Kuroo chuckles, adding it to his favourites. “Thanks.”

He smiles and slips his phone into his pocket as he steps away from you. You miss his warmth more than you should.

“Have they liked the photos?” You ask.

“Loved them,” he grins.

You know Kuroo’s been sending them to his family – with your permission, of course. It’s partly to satiate their desire to intrude on his love life, and also to make it more believable when you finally meet them. You have half a mind to save them to your own phone with how cute they are. ****

“ _Oba-chan’s_ been joking about putting them on the wall.”

You snort. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“She’s desperate,” he grins.

“She must be, if she’s considering _omiai_.”

Kuroo shrugs. “Ah, she’s just worried about me. She doesn’t want me to be ‘married to my work.’”

“Are you?” You ask, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, God no.”

You laugh as you dig your hands in your pockets.

“I’ve just got a lot going on,” he explains. “I don’t have the time to date.”

“Really?” You tilt your head at him. “You kind of strike me as the kind of guy who’s content to just go home and play dating sims all night.”

Kuroo reels back, a hand on his chest. “You’re joking.”

“I thought you were single because you had some digital waifu or something.”

Kuroo stares at you with an expression of absolute horror. “What have I done to deserve _this_?”

“I’m just _teasing_ ,” you giggle, hopping down the street. “Okay, so if you’re _not_ cuddling up against a body pillow of a scantily clad anime women during those lonely nights, then what _do_ you do with your spare time?”

Kuroo scoffs, shaking his head as he jogs to catch up with you. “Well, I catch up with my friends a fair bit. Oh, and I’m part of a hobby volleyball club.”

“You play?” You look him up and down. Now that he’s said it, it makes perfect sense.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I take good care of my body,” he grins.

Another glance and you realise – _yes_ , actually, he appears to be taking _very_ good care of his body. Those shoulders look a little broader than you’d first thought.

“Is that why you applied for your job?” You ask. “Personal interest?”

“Mhm,” he nods.

Interesting. “Have you always played?”

“I’ve played for as long as I can remember,” he grins. “Believe it or not, but my high school team actually made it to Nationals. With _me_ as their captain.”

“Wait, really?” You look up at him with wide eyes. Now that was certainly unexpected.

“Sure did.”

“How far did you get?”

Kuroo furrows his brow for a moment. “I think it was something like the top 16?”

“That’s… pretty impressive,” you admit. Your knowledge of sports is perhaps a little lower than might be expected of someone in your position, but you digress. Top 16 in the entire nation is definitely something to be proud of.

“Glad you think so,” he grins.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you pursue it professionally?” From your perspective he certainly has the build for it. And if there’s one thing you’re sure of after working next to him for a while now, it’s that he’s clever. A trait that seems to be surprisingly useful on the court.

“There were some real monsters on the teams we faced,” he says, voice languid as ever. “You know about Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio, right?”

You nod. Even if your understanding of the sport itself wasn’t particularly advanced, you were well-aware of the top players. That, at least, you’d made an effort to stay up to date with. Also, a lot of them were unfairly attractive – making that task a bit easier to stick to than some of your others.

“We faced them at Nationals,” he glances at you, a new glint in his eye. Maybe it’s nostalgia.

You shiver.

“That genuinely sounds terrifying.”

Kuroo grins. “It was. Oh, and you know Bokuto Koutarou, right?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Well, we were friends in high school,” Kuroo says, as if it’s the most mundane piece of information you could receive. “Our teams often practiced against one another.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “No way.”

“I have several embarrassing photos of him to prove it,” Kuroo chuckles.

He’s so confident about it that you have no choice but to believe him.

“You _have_ to introduce me to him,” you say, voice a little more desperate than you’d like.

“Why?” Kuroo flashes you a wicked grin. “Got a crush?”

“ _No_ ,” you roll your eyes, praying your cheeks aren’t turning too red. “He just seems… nice.”

“Nice and… attractive?”

“Shut _up_!”

“I’m just saying, he’s technically single—”

“Aren’t I supposed to be _your_ fake girlfriend?” You knock him with one of his shoulders to little avail. You stumble back a bit from the impact. He stays completely still.

Kuroo cackles a little louder than usual. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Who knew you were so annoying?” You scoff.

“That’s on you,” he smirks. “You’re the one agreed to this.”

“It’s a hell of my own creation,” you mumble.

“Should’ve read the fine print,” Kuroo teases.

You have half a mind to glare at him to keep this going, but a question pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

“Wait, so…” You press your lips together, frowning. “You didn’t pursue professional volleyball because of people like Bokuto?”

Kuroo tilts his head to the side with a pensive expression. “Sort of,” he shrugs. “I guess I just felt like I didn’t have the same passion for the court that guys like him did.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I just realised my talents would be better applied elsewhere.”

“So… in marketing?”

He grins, glancing at you. “I just think that volleyball has the power to really _connect_ people.”

You tilt your head at him.

“When I first moved to Tokyo, I wasn’t great at talking to people,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “But, because of volleyball, I found a way to… feel more comfortable opening up to people.”

The thought of Kuroo Tetsurou of all people being _shy_ strikes you for a second. It’s hard to picture – but only for a moment.

“So,” he continues, “I want to make it easier for kids to get into this sort of thing. You never know who it might help.”

You smile to yourself. Once again, he’s being cute. And he doesn’t seem to have any clue.

“What about you?” Kuroo asks. “How’d you end up there?”

“Oh, it was just the first place that took me in,” you shrug.

He snorts. “Really?”

“Yeah. I just sent out my resume to a bunch of places and they got back to me first.”

“Oh, wow,” Kuroo grins.

“Sorry it’s not very romantic,” you blush, glancing at him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “It sounds very reasonable.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle.

In all honesty, part of you had expected this whole ‘fake dating’ thing to be a bit of a burden. The thought of pretending to like someone a lot more than you actually do sounds draining.

But it’s not hard to like Kuroo Tetsurou. In fact, you think he’s quite pleasant company. This whole charade shouldn’t be much trouble at all.

You dutifully ignore the thought that, if this were a real date, you’d absolutely ask him if he’d like to go on another.


	5. Chapter 5

“You ready?” Kuroo asks, giving you a warm smile.

You take a deep breath.

He’s parked his car in the driveway of his parent’s home. You hadn’t even known he had a car; you’d always thought they were a bit useless when you live somewhere like Tokyo.

But that isn’t the point.

The point is, you’re about to meet his grandmother.

The very woman who’d started the toppling dominos that’d led to you sitting in this very car.

You’re also about to meet his dad and grandfather, but they sound a little less intimidating.

Honestly, you feel like this is all a bit _quick_. Do you even know him well enough to pull this off yet? But, as Kuroo had pointed out, the earlier you met his immediate family, the fewer names and faces you’d have to familiarise yourself with later in the month.

You’re the one who’d suggested this weekend, anyway. You can’t back out now.

“Hey,” Kuroo murmurs, tilting his head at you. “If you’re not feeling up to it, we can say you came down with a cold.”

“Oh,” you blink at him, heat rising in your cheeks. “Oh, no, it’s fine! I just need a moment. To… to steel myself.”

Kuroo smiles, the concern in his features melting away into relief. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you, Kuroo,” you nod.

God, how long has it been since you’d met someone’s parents? Too long. Embarrassingly long. Long enough for your own parents to be a little disappointed in you. Not that their opinions matter—

You shake your head.

No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking about them right now. You have a job to do.

“Alright,” you sigh. “I’m ready.”

“Great,” Kuroo nods. “Well… let’s go, I guess.”

The two of you slip out of the car, making your way towards the front door.

It opens before you’re even halfway there.

“Ah!” An old lady hobbles towards you, and you know immediately that it’s Kuroo’s grandmother. They have the same eyes – clever, bright, calculating.

“Look who decided to show up,” the woman tuts, placing her hands on her hips in the perfect image of a displeased mother.

Kuroo rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks turning pink. “You make it sound like I never visit,” he mumbles.

“Well, you certainly don’t visit as much as I’d _like_ ,” the old woman scoffs, shaking her head.

“I have a _job_ , Obaa-chan,” Kuroo grins, stepping forward and ruffling her hair.

“Now, now, Tetsu,” she chuckles, swatting his hand away, “you’re still in no position to do that.”

“I’ll be the one looking after you in your old age, you know,” he teases.

“Oh, I’m well-aware,” she responds, totally unphased. “You’re not getting away with anything less.”

The old woman turns to you, a kind, if cheeky, smile on her face. The family resemblance really is striking. The eyes, the smile, the energy… It’s almost comical.

“Hello, dear,” she greets you with sincere warmth in her voice.

“Hello,” you smile as best you can, offering her a bow. Your stomach feels all fuzzy and your chest is tightening –

This shouldn’t be so _stressful_. It’s not like you’re meeting his family as his actual, real girlfriend. And yet, you’re still worried about making a good impression.

Oh, and putting on a good performance. That’s important too.

“Oh, none of that,” Kuroo’s grandmother chuckles, shaking her head.

As you rise up, she waddles towards you, arms open and ready to embrace you.

You respond at the last moment, only just registering what’s happening.

“It’s delightful to finally meet you,” Kuroo’s grandmother beam, looking you up and down. “Ah, you’re even lovelier than the photos.”

“You too,” you smile, your cheeks blooming for the second time today. “And thank you.”

His grandmother chuckles, throwing her arms around your neck. Your eyes widen and you almost jump, but you reciprocate, nonetheless.

This woman is already more delightful than you can handle.

“I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, my dear.”

You didn’t think your face could get any warmer, and yet here you are. “You have?”

“Indeed!” She laughs. “And I’ve surmised that you are _far_ too good for my grandson.”

“ _Obaa-chan_!” Kuroo gasps.

“Would you begrudge me for telling her the honest truth, my boy?” Kuroo’s grandmother tuts. “I know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You should be able to put two and two together.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you laugh.

“Oh, surely not,” she shakes her head, taking a step back. “Now come, come!”

She hobbles back to the front door, beckoning the two of you.

You stall. Why, you don’t know. Nerves, probably? Man, this is so much harder than you thought…

“Hey,” Kuroo murmurs, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back. You start as his breath tickles your ear, whipping your head round to look at him.

He nods towards his front door with an encouraging look in his eyes.

You swallow roughly, trying to ground yourself. There’s more to be nervous about than you’d anticipated.

The two of you walk through the front door – Kuroo has to stoop a little, because of _course_ – and you take a moment to survey the house.

It’s a little cobbled together – walls covered with frames of all different shapes and sizes, a bookcase full to bursting with a rainbow of books, trinkets scattered here and there. It’s a mix of Japanese and Western-style, a concoction of couches and spare floor cushions, a low coffee table, wide rooms with open sliding doors and generous windows.

Slapdash as it is, it’s homely. Comforting, even.

Kuroo’s grandmother potters around the kitchen. From the clatter of mugs and kettle, you guess she’s preparing tea.

You turn to Kuroo for instruction. He takes your hand in his, leading you through the front room and towards the kitchen. You tighten your fingers around his palm, trying to calm the swirl of nerves rattling around your stomach.

He pulls out a chair for you at the kitchen table. You thank him quietly and slip into it as he plops himself next to you. 

He slouches against the back of his chair, his demeanour melting in a way you’ve never seen before.

 _Well_ , you think, _this is the house he grew up in_. 

“Here you go, dears,” his grandmother hums, flashing through the corner of your vision and setting a tea-set on the table in front of you. “I hope you’re a fan of green tea.”

“Thank you,” you smile. You’re not going to complain – especially since she’s gone to the trouble of preparing it for you.

She pours out three _yunomi,_ setting one in front of each of you. Once she’s done, she plops herself down on one of the chairs, wiggling forward so she’s on the edge of her seat.

“Now,” she smiles, reaching over and taking one of your hands in hers. “You must simply tell me all about yourself.”

You freeze.

What is there to say? Even now, an adult with a wage job, you can’t quite put a finger on what really _defines_ you as a person. It certainly isn’t your job in marketing.

You clench your free fist in your lap, trying to think of something, _anything_ to say.

Even if this is fake, even if this is just a ruse to calm his grandmother’s nerves for the holiday’s… it’s hard. It’s scary.

You _want_ to make a good impression. You _want_ this to go well. But you just don’t know how to make that happen. What if his grandmother doesn’t even like you? What then?

Kuroo slips a hand over your balled-up fist, rubbing a gentle thumb over the ridges of your knuckles. You loosen your grip just a little, letting him slip his fingers through yours.

The contact is still strange, still foreign. And it’s fake.

You know it’s fake.

But it gives you the tiny spurt of strength you need.

“Ah,” you laugh nervously, “where would you like me to start?”

The old woman smiles, shaking her head. “You’re fine, dear. The two of you met at work, yes?”

“Yes,” you nod. “He makes it more bearable.”

His grandmother laughs. “Well, I suppose his sense of humour is decent enough. He gets it from me, after all.”

You grin. “There is that. But he… he helped me settle in when I first started working there. I really appreciated that.” You blush. It doesn’t sound particularly _romantic_ , but they’re honest feelings. Perhaps the best way to make this believable is to play upon what’s already there.

Kuroo squeezes your hand gently. You squeeze his back.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you Tetsu?” His grandmother chuckles. “You see a lost little duckling and you just have to take them under your wing.”

Kuroo blushes, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Well… you know…”

His grandmother shakes her head, turning back to you. “He’s always been like this, you see.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard all about Kenma,” you smile. “Oh, and there’s a Tsukishima, right? From volleyball.”

“As I expected,” she chuckles, raising an eyebrow at Kuroo.

“You make it sound like I go around picking up charity cases,” he mumbles, looking away from her. You can’t make up much of his face, but his ears have gone a little pink.

“Are you calling me a charity case, Tetsu?” You tease, tilting your head at him.

His head whips back around, eyes wide. “No—I—why would you draw _that_ conclusion?”

You giggle, giving his hand another squeeze. “Just teasing.”

His grandmother chuckles, a new glint in her eyes. “You might have to reconsider who the charity case here is, my boy.”

“I never said she was a charity case!” He whines, looking between the two of you with an expression of deepening panic. “I would _never_ —”

“I thought I raised you to treat women better,” his grandmother sighs, propping her elbows on the table and dramatically hanging her head in her hands. “To see that I’ve failed so terribly…”

You laugh, the tension in your stomach easing a little.

 _He definitely gets his sense of humour from her_ , you realise.

And it’s more than just the sense of humour.

You know this woman’s already picked up on your anxieties. It’s like she’s trying to soothe them, in her own way. Just like he does.

His observant eye is a family trait, it seems.

The conversation flows a little easier after that; Kuroo tries to redeem himself to little effect, his grandmother asks you how you like to spend your spare time, Kuroo tries to stop her from relaying any embarrassing childhood stories…

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting at the kitchen table, but your tea’s gone cold.

You haven’t even drunk any of it.

“Oh, I should put the kettle back on,” his grandmother hums, as if reading your mind. “I’ve always been bad at playing host.” 

“Not at all!” You say without even thinking.

Kuroo’s grandmother chuckles, offering you a kind smile. Her gaze flicks to Kuroo, the look on her face turning a little wicked. “Honestly, Tetsu, I don’t know how you managed to land yourself such a sweet young woman.”

“It’s almost as if you don’t have faith in me,” Kuroo grumbles, propping his chin on his hand.

“The gall it must take to say such things to your own grandmother,” she tuts. “It’s my duty to love you more than anything else on this planet, you know.”

“Hm,” Kuroo nods slowly. “It’s a shame you’re not doing a very good job at performing said duty, then.”

“Kuroo!” You gasp, staring at him with slack jaw.

A sound that exists somewhere in the venn diagram of a shriek, a warble, and a laugh erupts from Kuroo’s grandmother. “My my, we _are_ getting bold!”

“He’s lying,” you cut in, “he talks about you all the time. Especially about how good you’ve been to him.”

“ _Oh_?” She grins devilishly. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “He’s a real grandma’s boy.”

“Oi!” Kuroo barks, staring at you with what appears to be disbelief. Nothing you’re saying is a lie – and that just makes it all the more incriminating.

“Oh, don’t blame her, Tetsu dear,” his grandmother laughs. “I’m sure she’s just worried about my feelings.”

You blush a little. She’s right – the last thing you want is for this lovely old woman to feel like her grandson did nothing less than adore her.

But, this family dynamic is very new to you. You can’t imagine being this casual with your own family members. 

“I’m sorry, _Obaa-chan_ ,” Kuroo grins, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You better not have!” She gasps, placing one aghast hand on her chest. “Goodness me, Tetsu, you’re going to do my heart in if you’re not careful.”

“And we can’t have that,” Tetsu chuckles softly.

A lull sets over the kitchen as the verbal combatants take a moment to compose themselves. You let the silence sit, trying to find comfort in the pause.

You can tell that there’s nothing misunderstood here. Even though you feel like you need to explain, like you need to ensure that she’s aware of how Kuroo really feels…

Well, it seems like that’s not necessary at all.

 _How beautiful_ , you think to yourself with a small smile.

A scuffling down the hallway perks your ears.

“Oh, hello!”

You turn towards the source of this new voice.

A kindly old man pokes his head through the hallway. He’s got quite a lot of hair for someone his age.

“Hey grandad,” Kuroo says, holding up a hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were visiting today?” He chuffs, hobbling towards the little gathering.

Kuroo frowns. “ _Obaa-chan_ didn’t tell you?”

The woman in question chuckles to herself.

“Really?” Kuroo asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“You’ve got to make your own fun when you’re this age, Tetsu dear,” his grandmother says sagely, bringing her _yunomi_ to her lips as if to declare an end to the interrogation before it’s even begun.

At this point, the tea must be stone cold.

The older man tuts, turning to you with a nod. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come and make my introductions earlier, my dear.”

“You must be Tetsu’s grandfather,” you grin, returning the nod.

“The wrinkles gave it away, didn’t they?” He sighs.

“Not at all,” you shake your head with a smile. “It’s the air of wisdom.”

He laughs, a full-bellied chortle that’s not unlike the one of the man sitting next to you. “Oh, now I _know_ you’re lying. There’s no wisdom to be found in here.”

He emphasises his point with a solid tap of two fingers against his temple.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s untrue,” you smile.

“He married me, dear,” Kuroo’s grandmother chuckles. “Believe me, that is not the mark of a wise man.”

“I beg to differ,” you turn to her with bright eyes. “I think any man would be lucky to have you.”

A genuinely delighted laugh leaves her lips. “Oh, you really are lovely, hm?”

You blush for what feels like the hundredth time today, glancing down at your lap.

Your hand is still twined with Kuroo’s. You’d forgotten about that. He seems to have, too.

How strange.

You raise your head sharply, intent not to think about it too hard.

Kuroo’s grandparents are exchanging a look – so many years of marriage simply _must_ result in some kind of nonverbal literacy, right?

“Go call Ta-chan, would you dear?” Kuroo’s grandmother smiles sweetly up at her husband, fluttering her eyelashes like a young vixen.

He rolls his eyes, but even you can tell it’s out of fondness. “Yes, darling.”

“Ta-chan?” You ask, looking to Kuroo.

“My dad,” he grins.

“Ah,” you giggle. The thought of a man well into his fifties being referred to as ‘Ta-chan’ is enough to help you feel a little more comfortable. Just a little.

Kuroo’s grandmother scuttles off down the hallway. His grandmother gets up and puts the kettle on again after pouring her current cup of tea down the sink.

You take a moment to compose yourself, turning to Kuroo.

He smiles at you, his cheeks warm and his eyes fond.

‘How am I doing?’ you mouth at him.

‘Great,’ he mouths back.

The burden slides a little, your shoulders feeling a little lighter.

You can’t quite tell, but if Kuroo thinks you’re doing okay…

“Ah, hello!”

The new voice makes you jump as a new presence fills the kitchen.

A tall, broad man ambling his way towards you, his cheeks ruddy and his eyes glinting with a cleverness that you’ve already begun to associate with the Kuroo family line.

“Kuroo Takashi,” he beams, holding one hand towards you. “And trust me, you need no introduction.”

You blush as you take his hands, giving it a meagre shake. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Takashi grins at you as he pulls out a seat of his own, right next to his father.

You realise, now, that the table is full.

Some absent-minded conversation flies around the dining table – something about work, something about the vegetable garden.

Family stuff.

It’s endearing, even if you’re not a part of it. Even if you don’t really know what it feels like.

“Well,” Kuroo’s grandmother hums, folding her hands in her lap as she shot you a knowing look, “I’m just glad he’s finally got a girl to look at him twice.”

The comment brings you back to the moment like a sharp slap. You raise an eyebrow at her in response, hoping it makes you look like you’ve been engaged this whole time.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Kuroo scoffs, rolling his eyes.

His grandmother leans across the table towards you with a playful glint in her eye. “You see, he wasn’t very popular with the girls in high school.” She casts a furtive glance towards her grandson. “I think it’s the hair.”

“ _Obaa-chan!_ ”

You bite back a laugh at the expression of pure incredulity on Kuroo’s face.

“I kept telling you to brush it,” she tuts. “And yet, you always ignored me.”

“I _did_ brush it!” He whines, patting the top of his head. “It just made it worse!”

“That’s what young boys always say when you try to get them to take care of their hygiene,” his grandmother sighs. “It’s a real shame.”

“Is that a dig at me?” Takashi asks.

“And what if it was?”

“You know, I think you need to be taking more responsibility,” he tuts, shaking his head. “We’re the result of _your_ genes, after all,” he says, gesturing between him and Kuroo.

“Yeah,” Kuroo nods.

His grandmother raises his hands in surrender, shaking her head slowly. “Why are you just blaming _me_? Shigeru is right here—”

“Don’t pin this on me!” Kuroo’s grandfather scoffs. “I am but a bystander!”

You watch the family bicker with a gentle smile on your face.

Kuroo Tetsurou makes sense to you now.

This is only your first meeting, but there’s a little bit of all of them in him. There’s a relief to knowing that no matter what, Kuroo is loved. Adored. Cherished.

And he’s comfortable here. It’s like he can be _himself_ – and he can certainly run his mouth without fear of retribution.

It’s nice to pretend to be a part of it, even if just for a moment.

✧ ✧ ✧

When Kuroo had asked you to pop by Kenma’s house with him, you hadn’t expected… this.

The house isn’t opulent, per se, but it’s _big_. It’s enough of a spectacle to be a marker of wealth, even if it didn’t have all the bells and whistles that usually accompanied excessive capital.

But perhaps the most staggering thing about it is its occupant.

You’d been told that Kenma’s a successful YouTuber. With that knowledge in mind, you couldn’t help but have _expectations_.

And yet this man, this famous YouTuber who Kuroo couldn’t shut up about, is so… normal. Just some guy, standing in his sweatpants and a jumper, his long hair tied up in a messy bun.

The contrast with the house is almost comical.

“Hey, so…” Kuroo grins bashfully, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t laugh.”

The man standing at the door of this ludicrously expensive-looking house glances between the two of you, his apathetic expression darkening to one of incredulity. “What’ve you done?”

Kuroo turns to you, his cheeks a little red. “So…”

He takes a moment to introduce you. He also decides that now, this moment, is the perfect time to explain his harebrained scheme. You can’t keep up as he babbles on about _miai_ and the holidays and meddlesome family members and all sorts.

Kenma stares at him through narrowed eyes. His mouth is drawn into a sour point, as if he’s just bitten an ulcer by accident.

“And this is… my fake girlfriend,” Kuroo laughs nervously, gesturing at you.

Kenma turns to you. He looks a bit like he’s having an out-of-body experience.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” you smile brightly. “Kuroo talks about you like he’s a proud father or something.”

Kenma shoots Kuroo a truly vitriolic glare. Kuroo grins back, a shade more bashful than before.

Kenma turns back to you with a touch of sympathy in his eyes. “I’m so sorry about him.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you laugh, waving a hand at him.

Kenma blinks at you, as if appraising… something. Your tone, maybe? Your expression? Who knows?

He just sighs, turning back to Kuroo.

“Explain it to me again,” he drawls. He looks positively exhausted. “But in one sentence this time.”

“So, to stop my grandma from setting me up on dates, she’s agreed to be my girlfriend for a few weeks,” Kuroo says, as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world. “Not my real girlfriend, but, like…”

Kenma stares at him for an excruciatingly long moment. “You’re so stupid.”

“Why?” Kuroo pouts.

“You really think this is going to work?”

He turns to you, a subtle look of genuine pity in his eyes. “I’m so sorry he dragged you into this.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, waving a hand at him. “He’s going to buy me boba for a year.”

Kenma shoots Kuroo a disparaging look.

“It seemed like a fair deal,” Kuroo shrugs.

Kenma shakes his head, closing his eyes. “We can discuss this after the collab.”

“Oh, right,” Kuroo grins at you bashfully. “I’ve got to shoot a collab with Kenma, so if you want to take the car and go somewhere, or…”

“I can help,” you say, almost automatically. “If you need a hand, or…”

A beautiful grin blossoms across Kuroo’s face. “Thank you.”

You smile back at him, your heart doing a little skip in your chest.

“Have you ever moderated a chat before?” Kenma asks.

You shake your head. “No, but I’m a fast learner.”

Kenma smiles a little at that, turning around. “Alright, come on.”

Kuroo gestures you forward, a gentle, fond expression on his face. You nod, stepping through the front door and removing your shoes.

This is only a small sliver of Kuroo’s world, only one little look into all the complexities that go into making this one man. But it’s already so beautiful; so bright, so full of adoration.

You’re already grateful for your stay here – even if it’s going to be brief.

Even if it’s all based on a lie.


	6. Chapter 6

> ➵ your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask. unfortunately, that favour includes convincing his family that you’re very much in love with him and have been for a while now. let’s just say it’s easier than you’d assumed.
> 
> **warnings** : f!reader, divorce mention?
> 
> **wc** : 3.3k
> 
> m.list | ch. 5 ↞ ~~ch. 6~~ ↠ ch. 7

You’ve never seen this many people packed into Hibaya Park before. Well, not in person.

The Tokyo Christmas markets seem to have persuaded everyone in Japan to coalesce in this one specific location, ambling past each other in a nebulous pool of beanies, jackets and the occasional red-nosed face. ****

The sheer size of the crowd would usually be enough to pique your anxiety. But, having roughly one-hundred and ninety centimetres of man to cleave a way through the fray for you makes it a little less daunting. You’ve opted not to hold his hand tonight – you don’t need to, after all – but you’re not above clinging to his sleeve for your personal sense of security. Losing your human ‘battering ram’ isn’t high on your to-do list.

The two of you had arrived just before sundown, catching the last bit of light the early December sun could offer. The markets themselves are even more charming than you’d expected; rustic, European-style stalls, pine trees wrung through with ‘fireflies’, bright displays and more ornaments than could ever be reasonable.Even the naked trees of the park itself have been wrapped up with glittering lights.

It feels a bit like walking through the stars. You’d almost believe you’d walked into a little universe. Almost.

But, it’s just a little too tacky to let you lose yourself in the magic.

A large polar bear sits on a room, overlooking the swarm below as he’s lit from within. An almost absurd amount of short Christmas trees crowd around the walkways, and you’ve half a mind to kick them down after nearly being assaulted by several facefuls of pine branches. Kuroo’s fine though; the worst thing that’s happened to him is nearly tripping over a small child. Thankfully,

And, of course, the consumerism of it all. But you’re more than willing to let yourself fall prey to it for tonight.

Lines of nutcrackers stand to attention at one stall, wreaths dot the wall of another, handmade ornaments on which a stall attendant would paint a name for and couple-hundred extra yen lie delicately on a beautifully pastoral-looking bench… You don’t need any of it, but you want to buy it _all_.

And how could you forget the _food_?

Mulled wine, bratwursts, pretzels… There’s so much choice it’s immobilizing; you only have so much money. What are you supposed to spend it on? What did you even have space for in your stomach? You’ve already eaten so much, and you’ve only just arrived at the mid-point.

In the centre of the markets, tall wooden tower plays house to delightful wooden dioramas, rimmed with candles. Not only is itpurportedly fourteen metres tall, but it’s also apparently imported straight from Germany’s famous Christmas town. You’d read somewhere that the markets were even officially backed by the German Embassy – but that’s not of much interest to you at this current moment.

Not when you’ve caught sight of yet even more food.

“They’re so cute!” You coo, tottering towards a stall stocked full of cookies. Snowmen, Christmas trees, gingerbread santas…

Kuroo grins, dawdling after you and leaning over your shoulder. “The reindeer look pretty cute.”

He’s not wrong. Their noses are red and their necks are wrapped up in little green scarves.

“Look at the little elf though,” you coo, pointing at a rosy-cheeked face capped with a pointy green hat.

Kuroo chuckles, his eyes following your finger. “There’s bloodlust in that smile.”

“Sh!” You hiss, eyeing the lady behind the counter discreetly. If she’d heard Kuroo’s joke, she doesn’t respond. 

“Hello!” She piques, smiling at you warmly.

“Hello!” You beam at her with a little nod, turning your attention quickly back to the cookies. They’re so meticulously decorated, the details landing perfectly between charmingly rustic and artfully neat.

“Five for a thousand and three hundred yen,” the lady behind the counter smiles, tilting her head at you.

You nod. That’s not a bad deal – if you had a thousand and three hundred yen-worth of cash on you. Unfortunately, you’d just blown the last of your coins on two homemade snowglobes. One features two deer sharing a scarf, the other two penguins nursing cups of hot cocoa.

All you can do is stare at them forlornly, praying that you’ll be able to find time in your schedule to come back to these markets.

“I’ll take two of the reindeer, one elf, one snowman, and one Christmas tree,” Kuroo from behind you. You’re not sure if he meant to sound like he was arranging a meeting time with a potential investor, but his tone is adorably business-like.

The lady nods in response, picking up a paper bag and a pair of tongs.

“Good choices,” you nod. “You could make a little diorama with that.”

Kuroo laughs, smiling at you. “That’s your first thought, huh?”

“Got a problem with it?” You peer up at him as threateningly as you can muster. Unfortunately, you’re well-aware that it’s likely not very intimidating. ****

“Not at all,” Kuroo grins. “It’s creative.” He pauses, tilting his head to the side for a moment. “Maybe our next advert should be a short stop-motion with a cookie volleyball match.” ****

“That’s a terrible idea,” you grin as you prop yourself up on your tiptoes, digging your hands in your pockets. “But I do think we should partner with a bakery.”

“Yeah?” He’s raising an eyebrow at you, but he hasn’t done a very good job of scrubbing that smile off his face.

“Mhm,” you nod. “They can just make a bunch of volleyball cookies and half the proceeds go to us.”

“That’s not the most effective business model,” Kuroo chuckles.

“So?” You shrug, plopping back down to your usual height. “We’d probably get free stuff out of it.”

Kuroo snorts,a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “I see, I see… so your interests come first then?”

“Over the company’s?” You hum, tilting your head at him. “Of course. Exploit the rich where you can, Kuroo.”

He laughs again, eyes and cheeks both bright like candlelight. “Ah, so that’s how it is, hm?”

“I’m going to eat the rich,” you nod. “But don’t worry, I’ll spare Kenma.”

Kuroo shakes his head with a chuckle, turning his attention back to the stall. The lady is done packing the cookies into a little paper bag, carefully folding over the top and placing a little bow sticker to close it.

The two of them finish off the niceties, the exchange of money and ‘thank you’s, and finally you were on your way.

A few steps away from the stall and Kuroo comes to a stop. You don’t notice, utterly mesmerised by the next stall you’ve set your sights on – yet another stall dedicated to German-style Christmas ornaments.

“Wait up,” Kuroo calls.

You spin round on your heels to face him.

Kuroo plops the paper bag on the top of your head, the integrity of its balance be damned. You clamp your hands around it before it has a chance to slip off and spill all the cookies across the ground like confectionary crime scene.

“Careful!” You squeak, lifting the bag off your head and clutching it to your chest.

Kuroo just grins, sticking his hands in his pockets and ambling off.

“Wait—” You totter after him with a look of sincere bafflement on your face.

“Think of it as an advance payment,” he grins.

Wait, what?

You pout at him as you hold the bag closer to your chest. “Are you sure?”

It feels a little wrong. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s just because he’s spending money on you. There’s always a dash of guilt when someone gives you something for free. Your best friend might tell you to unlearn that, but that’s easier said than done.

“I’m sure,” Kuroo chuckles, winking at you. “It’s the spirit of the season, right?”

You can’t argue with that.

When Kuroo had suggested going to the Christmas markets, you’d jumped at the chance. Work commitments hadn’t left much time to get into the spirit of things; that, and worrying about how you were going to handle your own family this year was a whole other beast of burden you hadn’t geared up to fight yet.

The chance to spend some time with a friend doing something enjoyable seemed like a port in the storm.

Technically, it classifies as another ‘fake date’. Although, it’s a little difficult to tell the difference between what’s a ‘fake date’ and what’s just spending time with your favourite work friend Kuroo Tetsurou. Not that you’d ever let him know he’s your favourite; you’d hate to think about how much he’d tease you for that one.

And frankly, it’s easier to think these little ‘dates’ as just spending time with a friend; that certainly takes the pressure off. That _is_ what you’re doing, all things considered. It’s just that you’re also fooling is family into thinking you’re his loving girlfriend.

You’re trying to shrug it off as ‘not that big a deal,’ but you _are_ starting to feel a bit like a bitch for it. But it’ll probably be fine so long as no-one gets attached, right?

A shiver racks your body as you stand there, staring into the swell of the crowd. It’s so _cold_ , and it’s not relenting. You’d brought a nice, thick jacket and you’re wearing thick woollen tights underneath your dress, but apparently that’s not enough.

You cup your hands in front of your mouth and huff into them in a poor attempt to warm your frigid fingers. Once sufficiently warmed, you clasp them around your neck. It doesn’t provide as much reprieve as you’d like, but it’s something.

“Are you okay?” Kuroo asks, tilting his head at you.

“Yeah,” you smile up at him as you drop your hands to your sides. “Just a bit cold.”

You start preparing for the scolding, mentally gearing up for grumpy looks and the verbal admonishment for not taking better care of yourself.

It doesn’t come.

“Here,” he murmurs, looping his scarf around your neck.

You stand there, dumbstruck, as he tucks the ends over your shoulders with gentle hands, the tips of his fingers accidentally brushing your neck. You’ve held his hands plenty of times before, but apparently anything even mildly tender is enough to set you off. ****

If your cheeks weren’t already bitten red by the cold, you’re sure they’d be bright with all the bashfulness of a high schooler trying to greet _the_ hot upperclassman everyone has a thing for. 

“Thank you,” you manage to say, looking up at him with wide eyes.

You’d always laughed at talk of Kuroo being the oblivious heartthrob of the office. But maybe the aunties are onto something. He’s tall, charming, and easy on the eyes. But he’s still a dork, and he doesn’t take himself too seriously.

 _God, you sound like such a teenager_ , you think to yourself. You’re a full-grown woman; you’ve got a wage job and everything. A handsome man giving you the scantest bit of attention shouldn’t be enough to make you feel like you’re going to vibrate out of your body from pure elation alone.

Besides, you know this isn’t necessarily _special_ treatment; he’d doted so much on Kenma during your little visit to his house that you’d forgive someone for mistaking them as an overbearing father and his reserved son.

Despite appearances, it seems in Kuroo’s nature to dote. You’ve got a sneaking suspicion that it comes from his grandmother.

But it seems that although that weird little moment, Kuroo’s completely unphased.

Maybe you’re just lonely. Or horny. Probably both.

Kuroo tsks, shaking his head. “You know, you should’ve thought about this.”

You scoff at him. “Excuse me?”

“It’s _winter_ ,” he grins. “You should’ve come prepared.”

“I _did_ ,” you whine. “I just didn’t know it’d be _this_ cold.”

“That’s a rookie error,” Kuroo tuts, shaking his head. “How many winters have you lived through now? Twenty-two?”

“Why are you talking like you’re from medieval Europe?” You snort.

“I’m matching the theme,” he says, not missing a beat as he gestures market around you.

You roll your eyes, trying to shamble together a quick comeback.

Kuroo’s phone erupts with a vicious ring.

You both jump, catching each other’s eye with amused smiles.

“My bad,” Kuroo chuckles, fishing it out of his pocket.

He glances down at the screen. His face warps into a grimace. It’s quick, so quick that it seems mindless.

Interesting.

You don’t have time to ask who it is before he’s tapped the screen and held his phone up to his ear. ****

“Oh, hey!”

You stand by silently as he listens to whoever’s on the other end of the phone. All you can make out is illegible chatter, obfuscated by the crappy phone line and the general din of the crowd.

“Good, good,” Kuroo nods, digging his free hand into one of his jacket pockets. “Work’s busy, but… I’m good.”

You try to sate your curiosity as best you can by turning to a little stall. The table’s cluttered with all kinds of Christmas trinkets, the attendant a ruddy-cheeked woman who reminds you of your work aunties.

“Huh?” Kuroo’s tone is stuck somewhere between casual and clumsily formal, like he’s dancing a very fine and unstable line.

“Oh, right…” He clears his throat. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. “Yeah. You heard right.”

His expression sours further. “I… I don’t know.”

It must be a family member. That’s the only way to explain this strange tightrope he’s tiptoeing along.

“Sorry about that,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It just slipped my mind.”

You entertain yourself with a little bear ornament. He’s wearing a lovingly crafted Christmas hat and a Santa jacket that’s just a little too tight for him.

Out the corner of your eye, Kuroo looks like he’s a child being scolded. “I’m sorry.”

This time you try to preoccupy yourself with a snowflake, painted an icy blue and with detailing so intricate you can’t believe it was painted by a real human being. The patience it must take for something like this…

Meanwhile, Kuroo’s expression warps into one of shock and panic. “Wait—I—But—”

Your first instinct, as it usually is in situations like this, is to comfort whoever’s experiencing distress.

But as you look up at Kuroo’s face, you don’t quite know what to make of it. He looks dumbfounded, for the the most part, with gormless eyes and his mouth crafted in a little pout. Whatever’d just happened, it was a surprise.

A pleasant surprise should be worth celebration, not something that piques your alarm.

But there’s just enough panic in Kuroo’s eyes to be concerned.

You take a step closer and tilt your head up at him. “Are you okay?”

He looks to you after a long moment, still a little out of it. “Yeah…” He swallows. “That was my mum.”

“Oh, really?” You try to keep your voice as neutral as you can muster. If your bafflement shone through, Kuroo makes no acknowledgement of it.

But that was his _mother_? You’d never begrudge anyone for having a complicated relationship with their family – lest you want to be the world’s most condescending hypocrite, of course – but Kuroo seems so… family-focused. It seemed pretty obvious that he really, _really_ loves his family; and nothing had _seemed_ forced during the time you’d met them.

Although, his mother wasn’t present at that little gathering. Had Kuroo even spoken about her in any great detail before? ****

“She, uh…” Kuroo brings a hand up and rubs the back of his neck, casting his gaze away from you. “She wants to meet you.”

Something about his expression is… off. It’s like he’s a little reticent, like he doesn’t _want_ you to meet her. ****

“Isn’t… isn’t that what we’re doing?” You frown. _Something’s_ going on. But you have no idea _what_. There’s too many possibilities, too many reasons he might feel a certain way about one of his parents. But you don’t want to pry, and—

“My parents are divorced.”

“Oh.”

A silence. One you’re not quite sure what to do with.

But that one statement is enough to give you the context you need.

A monsoon of questions thrashes through your mind. How old was he when it happened? Was it amicable? Or was it an absolute shitshow? Was he well-looked after during the ordeal? Or was he forgotten? Worse yet, was he used as a pawn?

But you don’t ask any of that.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, placing a tentative hand on his arm.

Kuroo shakes his head. “It’s fine. It was ages ago.”

You’re well-aware that something like that being ‘ages ago’ doesn’t mean much. Hell, something being ‘ages’ ago can make things _worse_. Formative years and all that. You want to tell him that it’s okay, that this is the sort of thing people take ages to process. It’s still taking you a while to deal with it, after all. And you’d only been what, thirteen? Fourteen? ****

Kuroo’s eyes seem to be begging you to drop it. _Not here_ , they say, _not now_.

“So,” you say, seeking even a modicum of cheerfulness. “I met your dad’s side of the family?”

It’s an obvious question, but hopefully talking about them will make him feel a little better.

“Yeah,” he nods. His eyes don’t light up, his features don’t soften… nothing. “I only planned on introducing you to them,” he admits.

“Right,” you nod, putting your questions on the backburner. “But now your mum wants to meet me?”

“Dad mentioned you, apparently,” he says. He’s far too nonchalant about it, in your opinion.

His _dad_ had mentioned you. He thought you were worth mentioning. Well, perhaps it was simply a case of sharing information, but still. You’re being perceived _as_ Kuroo’s partner; you’re being discussed in the content of being Kuroo’s partner.

And sure, that’s what you’d signed up for. But talking about this sort of thing over a cup of hot chocolate and actually experiencing it ‘out in the field’are two vastly different experiences.

“When did she want to meet me?” You ask. It feels a bit like you’re scheduling a meeting with a prospective sponsor. You’re already mentally filing through the template of questions you’d ask; should you bring out a template and start filling it in? Maybe that’ll make things feel less scary.

“This weekend,” Kuroo says. He looks a bit like he’s stepped on a stray piece of Lego.

“This weekend?” You echo, your eyebrows quirking up. _Well that’s sudden_ , you think.

Kuroo runs a hand through his hair, chewing on his bottom lip. “I can make up some excuse for you.”

“I’m willing to go with you,” you say. 

Another silence. This time, it’s shared in mutual surprise. Where’d that assurance come from? You certainly don’t know. ****

“Are you sure?” Kuroo asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “You don’t have to.”

“Well…” You bite the inside of your cheek, gently parsing the thought in your mind. “It’s more polite for me to go than not, right? It might seem like I’m snubbing your mother.”

The words coming out of your mouth don’t quite feel like roleplay. It’s hard not to notice how much it sounds like you’re genuinely concerned about this; like a real girlfriend would be.

 _Well,_ you think to yourself, _even if this isn’t real I don’t want to be rude_.

And besides, if you put in a little effort, it’d reflect well on him, too.

“If you’re sure,” Kuroo says after a long moment.

You smile up at him, hoping – praying, really – that it offers him a little solace.

Kuroo smiles back without a word. He just brings a hand up and ruffles your hair gently for a moment, gazing at you with a new kind of fondness. One that makes your head feel a little lighter.

“Thanks.”


	7. Chapter 7

It’s frustratingly cold as you step out onto the street in the late afternoon, scarf pulled up around your cheeks and gloved hands stuffed in your coat pockets. Sure, it’s a bit stuffy inside a jumper, a jacket, _and_ an outercoat, but it’s what you’ve got to do. It’s the sort of afternoon that you want to spend inside, curled up next to your heater as you throw on a shitty Christmas film. Instead, you’re going to brave the minefield that is your boyfriend’s mother.

Well, not your _real_ boyfriend. But his mother doesn’t know that – and she’s certainly unlikely to be any less critical of you regardless. You’re not sure the whole ‘deceit’ aspect makes it any less stressful. If anything, you feel _more_ pressure to play your part well; for his sake more than anything else.

The reason for this mess is waiting for you, leaning against the nose of his car, dressed in a surprisingly stylish black coat and red scarf. He looks so nonchalant, gazing down the street with the same expression he has when trying to figure out the most appropriate sign-off to a work email.

“Morning,” you yawn, shuffling towards him.

Kuroo grins at you, his nose and cheeks bitten red by the cold.

For how tall and intimidating he looks, he’s got a nice smile.

“You sure you can breathe in all that?” He teases, appraising your winter gear with a playful glint in his eye.

You glare at him, shuffling towards him in all your layered glory.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those men who likes to brag about how he never gets cold,” you huff, tapping his foot with your own. He doesn’t seem the type to have such a lack of self-awareness, but it’s not impossible that he’d just say something like that to wind you up.

“Nah,” he grins. “I just go for fashion over comfort.”

“You’re doing a terrible job then,” you giggle. Of all the words that come to mind when you think ‘Kuroo Tetsurou’, fashionable is not one of them.

Kuroo places an aghast hand on his chest, the look in his eyes not quite matching up with his slack jaw. “And here I thought we were _friends_.”

“Aren’t friends supposed to be honest with each other?” You tilt your head to the side with a sparkle in your eyes.

The nervousness bubbling in your stomach is already subsiding. It’s a silly little thing, a bit of meaningless banter on a winter’s morning, but you feel better. Embarrassing, really.

“You wound me,” he chuckles, shaking his head. He stands to his full height, rolling his shoulders. “You ready?”

You nod. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Recognition flashes in Kuroo’s eyes, his expression morphing from relaxed to mildly perturbed. “Thanks for doing this, by the way.”

You wave a hand at him before promptly stuffing it back in your pocket. “No problem. Also, I get a free dinner out of it.”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at you, but his expression softens slightly. Although, you’re not sure it’s enough to ease the guilt he must be feeling.

(“Are you sure?” Kuroo asks, his brow furrowed as he leans across your work cubicle. His voice is quiet, hushed, as though he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “You really don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“You sound like a broken record,” you laugh. It’s true; as surely as the sun rises and sets, Kuroo asks if you’re sure you _really_ want to do this at approximately one in the afternoon. Sometimes at two. “It’s fine,” you smile. “I offered, didn’t I?”)

“Well…” He sighs, turning around and opening the car door. “Ladies first.”

You nod as you slip into the passenger seat. The stale heated air burns the inside of your nose; a sensation you firmly associate with the winter.

Kuroo is quick to join you on the other side, legs a little too long to fit comfortably despite his seat being pushed back quite far. You smile to yourself; he really _is_ a strange mix of all the confidence and debonair of a successful businessman and all the awkwardness of an overgrown child.

The more you think about it, the more it makes sense that _he’d_ be the one to ask this of you. But it’s on your own volition that you sit in his car, about to head off to see his mother.

Maybe this is going overboard. But something about his face while he was on the phone to his mother still bothers you. The panic, the exhaustion, the fear – he’s never acted like that with his dad’s side of the family. Something’s obviously up.

But you’re not sure how to casually mention that in conversation. ‘Oh, hey, I noticed things were kind of tense when you were on the phone to your mother, do you want to talk about it?’ It’s not even your place to pry.

At the very least, you want to support a friend ‘in need’. That feels reasonable enough.

✧ ✧ ✧

The drive is painfully silent.

You try your best to make light conversation, but it’s hard. Kuroo’s too deep in his own head to have a proper discussion. The joviality he’d greeted you with this morning quickly dissipated, replaced by an unusually sombre expression.

He’s never usually this quiet. There’s usually a quip, or perhaps a small observation he’d like to share. Seeing him this quiet, this withdrawn… it’s unusual. Well, for you, at least. Perhaps the Kuroo you knew was just a front, a mask securely fixed on to make workplace relationships run smoothly.

But… you’d like to think you know him better than that by now.

Forty minutes feel like eighty. But thank _God_ it’s over.

He doesn’t even need to announce that you’ve arrived. The palpable air of dread that fills the car is indication enough.

That, and the fact that you’re currently parked in front of what appears to be a very standard house of the upper middle class. It looks rather fancy, with perfectly tended-to hedges and white walls. It almost looks like a show home, albeit a lot smaller.

“You ready?” Kuroo sighs, turning to you with tired eyes.

You nod. “I’m ready to charm the pants off your mum.”

You regret the words before they’ve even left your mouth.

Kuroo snorts. “Really? That’s the turn of phrase you’re going with?”

“I could run off and live a long, loving life with your mother,” you shrug. “You never know, ‘Tetsu’.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “Now that’d be a plot twist.”

“Mhm,” you nod.

Something in your gut wants to linger in the car, to put this off as long as possible. You don’t know what to expect; his father’s side of the family had been a breeze, perhaps even more kind and welcoming than you deserve. But something told you that won’t be the case with his mother.

Kuroo doesn’t knock on the door, nor does he shoot his mother a message. He fishes around in the mailbox and pulls out a pair of keys, reluctantly opening the front door.

You’re dumbstruck by how pristine everything is. It looks as if it’s been cleaned recently; probably in anticipation of your arrival. But you can’t comprehend this place ever being anything _less_ than perfect, though. You can’t envision disorder here, neither in the little hallway or the charming little living room.

There’s something distinctly different about this house. It’s a little cleaner, a little more put together. Where Kuroo’s paternal household seems to revel in its rambunctious sincerity, this one seems more concerned with order.

Everything is where it should be; the design opts for minimalism over sentimentality.

There are still photos on the wall – a gangly, teenaged Kuroo smiling blithely next to a girl who looks a lot like him, a baby you don’t recognise, a group of people you’ve never seen before staring at you with tight smiles…

“We’re here,” Kuroo calls out.

“Yes, dear, I heard the door,” a woman’s voice calls back. Your stomach is tight, wound up like a pocket watch. “Come to the kitchen, would you?”

Kuroo glances at you before complying, shuffling towards the kitchen with the same reluctance as a petulant twelve-year-old boy. You follow, tottering after him as quickly as possible.

The kitchen is just as orderly as the rest of the house; a miracle, given the fact that Kuroo’s mother appears to be making curry.

She’s as tall as you expected her to be. She doesn’t share her son’s penchant for messy hair; instead, she looks like the sort of woman who’d be composed no matter what. She does share her son’s strong jaw and sharp eyes, and it seems like she’d look just as good in a suit.

Suffice to say, you’re even more intimidated. 

“Dinner’s ready, Tetsurou,” she sighs, hand on her hip and ladle in hand.

“We just got here,” he blinks, gormless.

“That’s why I told you to arrive at six,” she says.

You and Kuroo exchange a look.

“Thank you for being so prepared,” you say reflexively.

His mother offers you a smile in response. It doesn’t _seem_ insincere, at least.

“Is Akari coming?” Kuroo asks.

You know that name – his sister. She must be the girl in the photos.

“She couldn’t make it,” Kuroo’s mother replies nonchalantly.

You watch Kuroo’s face as it flickers almost imperceptibly with understanding. There’s something like relief in his eyes – but also something like annoyance. Perhaps both. 

“And Haruki?”

There’s something to the way Kuroo says that name that sets you on edge.

“He’s working late,” his mother replies with a moment’s delay. Maybe she just took some time to process the question – but there’s enough dead air for you to be suspicious.

That’s when you remember.

(“So, your mum’s remarried?” You ask, tilting your head at him.

Kuroo grimaces on the other side of the table. “Yeah. To a lawyer.”

You chuckle, taking another sip of your lunchtime boba. “I take it that’s a bad thing?”

Kuroo bristles. “Well, he just… I just… we never got along, you know?”

“Ah,” you swallow. Incompatibility with a parent’s new partner is its own minefield, fraught with hurt feelings and expectations. “So, your mum remarried, and you stayed with your dad?”

“Mhm,” he nods. “Mum took Akari.”

“That’s your sister, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you talk to her often?” Your gut shifts. Siblings ‘separated’ in a divorce. Fraught allegiances, maybe?

“Yeah,” he takes a sip of his own drink. “I saw her last week.”)

Haruki must be the stepfather.

“I see,” Kuroo murmurs. This time, the look in his eyes is definitely relief.

“Go sit yourselves down,” his mother says, waving a hand at you two. “I’ll bring it out in a second.”

Kuroo obliges quickly, making a beeline for the dining table. You follow in suit, terrified of the prospect of being left alone in the kitchen with his mother. Kuroo pulls out a chair for you and you slide into it, folding your hands in your lap.

Well, the energy here is certainly… different.

Next to you, Kuroo sits with a clenched jaw. The only other time you’ve seen him like this is when dealing with particularly obnoxious sponsors; the ones that’d make even the most calm and patient of your colleagues want to tear their hair out.

But he shouldn’t have to feel like this, should he? It’s his mother’s house. Somewhere that’s supposed to be a home for him. And yet he looks so… so…

You nudge him with your elbow. He turns to you with a start, eyes wide. A smile is all you can offer him, as optimistic and genuine as you can muster.

His eyes soften ever so slightly; and, if you’re not imagining it, you swear you can see the whisper of a smile beginning to form on his own lips.

“Here you go,” his mother chirps, appearing so suddenly you’re not entirely convinced she didn’t just materialise out of smoke.

She sets a plate of curry down in front of you.

It looks _gorgeous_. Robust, richly coloured, with rice that looks like it’s the perfect consistency… it’s the sort of curry you’d expect to see on an advertisement, or maybe on a delivery app (where the image draws you in, only to leave you deeply disappointed when the real curry shows up looking significantly less appetising).

“Thank you,” you smile at her. Funny that your mood’s suddenly picked up, hm?

“You are most welcome,” his mother chuckles, sitting herself down in her own seat across from the two of you.

The three of you say your thanks before picking up your spoons. If there’s anything you can all agree on, it’s the fact that you want to dig into this curry _immediately_.

“Have you spoken to your sister recently?” Kuroo’s mother asks, scooping up some rice.

“Uh, yeah,” Kuroo nods, swallowing roughly. “I called her yesterday.”

“Did you tell her about your new girlfriend?”

“Not yet,” he mumbles, cheeks starting to glow.

“Afraid she’ll tease you?”

Kuroo genuinely chuckles at that. “You really think me such a coward?”

“You say that like I’m not also deathly afraid of your sister,” his mother smiles, “she could verbally tear me apart without even breaking a sweat.”

Kuroo’s chuckle becomes a genuine laugh. The sound brings you more relief than you could’ve ever imagined.

Even his mother seems to soften a bit.

She finally looks straight at you, a gentle smile on her face. “I hope it’s to your liking, dear,” she hums.

“Thank you,” you smile back, taking a spoonful of curry. It’s _so_ good – warm and rich, with the sort of texture and flavour you’d expect from a comfort meal. You wonder if her penchant for cooking has passed down to her son. 

“I take it’s a success, then?” Kuroo’s mother smiles wryly, tilting her head at you. You blink at her with wide eyes and round cheeks. Had you… done something?

“Don’t tease her,” Kuroo chuckles.

“I’m not teasing,” his mother tuts. “I just pay particular attention when someone’s trying my cooking for the first time.”

A surprisingly comfortable silence settles over the table as everyone tucks into their dinner, taking a moment to enjoy this dish that tastes like a warm hug.

Kuroo’s mother is the picture of smug satisfaction, revelling in the implicit praise of a silent dinner table. Although, you can’t blame her; if you could make a curry this good, you’d surely be acting the same way.

You’re grateful for the silence. Silence means you don’t need to be quick on your feet, trying to weave a realistic story. This woman seems perceptive; more perceptive than you’d like. Where his dad’s side of the family seem to place trust that Kuroo’s telling them the truth, it feels as though his mother would be able to unravel this little pantomime in an instant.

“So how long have you two been together now?” She coos, looking between the two of you with a sly smile.

You look to Kuroo, trying your best to suppress the panic in your eyes. You hadn’t actually _asked_ what the answer to that question would be. Foolish, really.

“It’ll be, uh…” Kuroo clears his throat, raising an eyebrow. “A few months now?”

You nod along, taking another mouthful of curry. Curse the swirling in your gut – this meal deserves to be enjoyed wholly, not forced down during a bout of anxiety.

“And you were working together before this?” She asks.

“Mhm.”

You reach over and take Kuroo’s hand on instinct. Your grip is firm, tense. Kuroo squeezes your hand back. The amount of comfort it gives you is shameful; this isn’t real. He’s just a friend. A colleague. 

“Ah,” Kuroo’s mother smiles. “So, it really is a workplace romance.”

The way she says it implies that the fact amuses her. Why? Had she not expected that for her son? Did she look down on a workplace romance? Perhaps some people might find it unprofessional, but… it’s not _real_. Not that you’d tell her that.

She asks a few more questions; where you’re from, what you like to do, what you studied in university.

You answer as truthfully as you can. The less lies you have to keep track of, the better. And, you hope, it might add some credence to your story – even if part of you worries that his mother might disapprove of you.

Not that it matters. You’ve had more than enough of this ‘method acting’.

The questions slow, although you’re not sure Kuroo’s mother is satiated. There’s a certain glint in her eye as she looks between the two of you.

“So,” she asks, her voice like cream, “when am I getting grandchildren?”

Your face flushes hot. The question isn’t being directed at you – well, not _really_ – but the thought is enough to send you into a mental frenzy. Children? But you’re so _young_ , and they’re a big commitment. There’s so much to think about – schooling, mental wellbeing, financial support—

“Be patient, mother,” Kuroo shakes his head, letting the question roll off his shoulders.

 _He must get asked this a lot_ , you think. 

“You’re getting on in years, Tetsurou,” his mother purrs.

You resist the urge to frown. If Tetsurou was past his prime, then does that make you an old crone?

“I’m only twenty-four,” Kuroo mumbles. No matter how frequent a question like this, it’s always annoying.

“And?” His mother raises an eyebrow at him.

Kuroo rolls his eyes. You swallow down a laugh with a sip of water.

“ _And_ ,” Kuroo croons, rolling his head to the side, “I’ve got to focus on my career.” He threads his fingers with yours effortlessly, holding up your clasped hands for your mother to see. “And so does she.”

Your heart is pounding now, blood thrumming in your ears. If none of your words are enough to convince his mother that this is ‘real’, then surely your darkening cheeks must do the trick.

“Well now,” his mother coos, “seems like you’ve got it all worked out.”

Something’s off. It’s in the way Kuroo’s mother looks at him. In the weight of the silence that’s engulfed you. In the way he squeezes your hand a little tighter.

You’re missing something. You can feel it in your gut. There’s an important piece of information you’re not privy to, or perhaps a part of Kuroo’s personal history that you haven’t been told.

Regardless of what it is, Kuroo and his mother seem to be having a silent war over it.

“I never asked,” you cut in, desperate to bring an end to this tension, “but what do you do for work?”

Kuroo’s mother blinks at you for a moment, as if she hasn’t quite processed what you’ve asked. “Oh, I’m a teacher.”

“What grade?” You ask. If you keep this ball rolling, then maybe you’ll all survive the evening.

“Middle school,” she nods, “although truth be told, I feel like I should’ve gone for elementary.”

“Why?” You smile. “Are the pre-teens too hormonal?”

Kuroo’s mother sighs, sitting back in her chair. “You wouldn’t believe how foolish some of those children can be.”

“Tell her about those boys who tried to make a flamethrower during chemistry,” Kuroo chuckles. He’s smiling, but he still looks beleaguered.

“Oh my _God_ ,” his mother groans. You worry for a moment; is she mad? Upset? Embarrassed?

None of those, apparently. She launches right into the story, complete with hand gestures.

You laugh along. Next to you, Kuroo’s shoulders slump a bit.

It may not be a victory, but the energy in the room has definitely shifted. You’ve got _something_ to talk about. That’s one problem out of the way.

All you want to focus on now is getting Kuroo through the rest of the evening.

✧ ✧ ✧

A few more hours of idle yet painful conversation maintained primarily by you, and you’re ushered off to bed. It’s barely even nine thirty, but you’re ready to pass out and stay comatose until the morning. And an early rise means you can leave even earlier.

You’re not sure what to make of this place. There’s love here. You’re sure of it. And you think Kuroo’s aware of it, too.

But it’s a different kind of love; one that’s shaped differently, that’s taken on a distinct pallor. A certain distance, maybe? Love expressing itself primarily as nagging concern – something that often doesn’t feel much like love at all. It’s a kind of love that’s difficult to swallow, one that makes you want to push someone away rather than seek them out.

But you can’t be sure of anything. You only know so much. And quite frankly, your head is starting to hurt from all the thinking and worrying. 

The room you’ve been relegated is Kuroo’s old bedroom, but you wouldn’t have guessed. There’s not much of him here; a few _Shounen Jump_ ’s here and there, a dusty volleyball sitting on the bookshelf next to a cheap-looking cat trinket.

There’s not much to imply that a teenage boy ever lived here, let alone a working adult. You wonder, briefly, how often Kuroo comes to visit. You can’t imagine he stays long.

The man in question looks far too big for this place, anyway. Even the double bed shoved up against the wall doesn’t look long enough to fit his entire body.

Unfortunately, it’s the only acceptable place to sleep in the room. There’s not even a couch for you to lie on, or even a spare futon.

Maybe you should’ve thought of this _before_ agreeing to visit his mother for the evening.

But it’s too late now; the two of you are stationed on opposite sides of the room, both uncomfortably aware of the fact that there is, believe it or not, only one bed. You’re not _against_ the idea of sharing a bed, even if for one night, but the prospect still feels… strange. Embarrassing, even.

Kuroo clears his throat, taking another perfunctory look around the room.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, no, I—”

“I dragged you into this,” he smiles. “It’s the least I can do.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already leaving the room. The door swings shut behind him softly, leaving just the slightest crack.

You take a quick moment to change in your pyjamas, sitting yourself down on the bed with a sigh.

There’s no way this whole charade wasn’t going to have its uncomfortable moments. You were well-aware of that when you’d entered into it. But it has certainly thrown you some curveballs. If you’d asked yourself three months ago if you’d thought you’d end up sitting on a bed in a stranger’s house, after what was perhaps the most uncomfortable dinner of your life, waiting for your fake boyfriend to return as he sought out a blanket so he could sleep on the floor, you would’ve thought you were quite mental.

But you don’t mind. The thought of Kuroo having to go through this on his own, being lambasted with questions about why he hasn’t settled down and why he isn’t expecting a child… That must be frustrating to bear solo.

You hear voices in the hallway. His mother.

“Oh, she gets cold at night,” you hear Kuroo say, “so we usually use two blankets.”

His mother tsks. “That sounds rather high maintenance.”

Your stomach twists a little at that. So, you didn’t succeed. As soon as you’re out of sight, the façade drops.

“God forbid she gets cold,” Kuroo mumbles.

There’s an awkward pause. Somehow, the silence feels more honest. Like both Kuroo and his mother can talk with no holds barred without you there. Seems there’s a lot you still don’t know.

“I just think the two of you don’t have much chemistry.”

The words jolt through you. It’s not real. Your relationship isn’t real. But for some reasons, those words sting. Is it because they mean you’ve failed to do your job well? You were supposed to be helping Kuroo get his mother off his back, not give her _more_ things to pick at him for.

“Excuse me?” Even Kuroo sounds frustrated. 

“She’s no Ritsuko.”

It’s the way she says the word that betrays its relevance.

The silence that follows is pregnant with tension.

Ritsuko must be an ex. But that’s none of your business. He’s not your real boyfriend.

“I don’t want her to be Ritsuko.”

You’ve never heard Kuroo’s voice like that. It’s sharp, tight, unfamiliar.

“I still think you made a mistake, Tetsurou.”

“Would you just drop it?” There’s an edge to his tone, like his voice is armed with a kind of sharpness that people don’t tend to direct towards their parents.

“Well, you know what they say,” his mother sighs, a familiar kind of parental condescension in her voice. “Mother knows best.”

“If you want me to respect your choices, then you have to respect mine.”

Those words seem to strike her silent, the only sound the thumping of feet along the hallway. 

The light of the hallway spills into the room as Kuroo pushes the bedroom door open, scowl on his face and blanket in hand.

You sit up a little straighter.

Should you say something? Were you supposed to have heard that? It seemed intense…

“Can I have a pillow?” He asks. The edge in his voice is gone as he turns to you, the resentment in his face replaced with exhaustion.

“Sure.” You reach behind you and grab one of the pillows, passing it to him.

“Thanks,” he sighs.

He pays you no mind as he starts preparing his ‘bed’ half a step away from you, tossing the blanket on the floor haphazardly. His back is turned, but you don’t need to see his face to know he’s scowling.

“Hey, Kuroo?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” You ask gently.

He sighs, his shoulders sinking. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”

It’s almost comical, how ineffective that request is.

You reach out and take his hand. You’re not sure why; it’s instinct, more than anything.

But Kuroo turns around and looks at you, his eyes wide. The expression makes him look a few years younger, confused and hopeful.

“I’m willing to listen, if you need it.” Your voice is so, so quiet. Is it the right thing to do? Is this what he wants to hear? It’s hard to say. All you know is that he doesn’t deserve to go to bed in such a foul mood.

Kuroo swallows roughly, still staring at you. His hand tightens around yours. His palm feels rough; was that due to the years of volleyball?

He sighs, sitting himself next to you on the bed and leaning back against the wall. He’s still holding your hand.

“It’s just…” His voice is delicate; perhaps even childlike. “Every time I come here, it feels like I’m fourteen again.”

You nod. It’s easy enough to understand – and you’re sure a lot of people feel similarly – but…

“Why?”

Kuroo blinks rapidly for a moment, closing his eyes. “It’s like… any progress I’ve made is dashed, and I’m back to square one.” 

“What do you mean?” You rack your brain for any idea of what he could be talking about. Kuroo’s always seemed so secure, so stable. Even when he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he goes at it with such confidence that it makes you feel like he’s got it all under control.

But that’s Kuroo at work.

It seems that his private life was an entirely different stadium – one he can’t navigate so smoothly.

He opens his eyes and looks at you.

There’s a lot he wants to say. You can see it in his eyes. Yet something seems to hold him back.

“I have a hard time letting people in,” he admits.

“Really?” That surprises you. And yet, it doesn’t.

Kuroo is the perfect picture of cordiality, with an enviable ability to get along with most people he meets. He’d been lavished with praise for it at work numerous times.

But cordial doesn’t mean vulnerable. And now you think about it, you can’t quite imagine him letting his walls down all that often.

“Mhm,” he nods. “I… struggle with being vulnerable.”

You nod slowly. The ‘shape’ of Kuroo becoming clearer in the fog. “If you don’t mind me asking… why?”

Kuroo drags his bottom lip through his teeth for a moment, deep in thought. “I think it’s because I’m afraid I’ll get left behind.”

It startles you. The honesty.

Maybe it’s because you’ve just been talking about vulnerability. Or maybe it’s because you’d given him the platform he needed tonight. But you couldn’t have prepared for the weight of those words, nor the way he said them.

“Kuroo…” You murmur. You’re not sure what there is to say. All you know is that you feel that, too. Maybe less intensely than him, but you understand.

“That, or I’ll break someone’s heart,” he sighs, running his hand spare hand down his face. “Every time I’m here, mum grills me about being single. Every _damn_ time. And she likes to bring up…”

He trails off. You can make a good guess of what the rest of that sentence might be.

Ritsuko. It’s not your place to ask; but you can’t help but be concerned for him.

You let the silence sit for a moment. This conversation is for _him_ – it’s his choice what you do and don’t discuss. Who knows, maybe asking about this Ritsuko would just bring him more distress.

“Mum really wants grandkids, if that wasn’t obvious,” he scoffs, running a hand through his hair.

You smile a little. “I figured.”

He presses his lips together, looking up at his ceiling. “I don’t… I don’t want to marry some poor girl while I’m young just to pump out a child or two to please my mother. I don’t want to start a family if it’s just going to collapse around the kids because me and their mother weren’t right for each other.”

It’s coming together in your mind. The need for a fake girlfriend. The fact his grandmother would be concerned enough to arrange a _miai_. The fact that, during your entire time working next to him, you hadn’t heard anything about a partner.

Kuroo Tetsurou is starting to make sense. 

“That sort of thing can really affect kids, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

His hand tightens around yours once more. You’d forgotten he was holding it. But, you suppose, touch from someone you trust can be a wonderful antidote for nerves.

“That, and…” He squeezes his eyes shut again, frowning. “It wouldn’t be fair on whoever I married just because it’s the ‘right’ thing to do according to my mother. It wouldn’t make either of us happy.” He pauses, his voice lowering ever so slightly. “It’d just be a waste of everyone’s time.”

“It sounds like a lot of pressure,” you say. It’s the truth.

Kuroo chuckles. “You could say that.”

He swallows, finally letting go of your hand. “Thanks for coming tonight, by the way. You saved me a lecture.”

“No problem,” you smile. “The food was good, at least.”

Kuroo cracks a small smile. You’re glad for it. He shifts forward on the bed and stands up, stretching his arms above his head. “I’m gonna try and sleep.”

“Good idea,” you nod.

Kuroo flicks the light off and the two of you settle down into your respective beds, shifting uncomfortably under the sheets. Yours feel new; a bit stiffer than you’d like, with all the firmness of that damned blouse you had to wear in high school. Uncomfortable as it is, it’s not the reason you feel so restless.

Today keeps running through your mind, random moments deciding to hang in your mind with startling clarity. Nothing had gone wrong, but it feels like nothing went right. It’s this strange limbo, a skinny path running flush against a mountain, hugged by a steep, seemingly unending drop.

Something clicks into place. Something about how Kuroo sees himself.

Kuroo Tetsurou doesn’t feel whole; he feels like a patchwork, a collage shambled together, drawn from a whole range of other people. Things that seem so certain to other people are lost in a fog for him; ideas about love, about family, about security.

For Kuroo, there’s doubt. A fear that something will fall apart. A fear that he’ll repeat the same mistakes as his parents – the feeling that he already has. 

Divorce tends to do that to people. To families. It’s not as simple as a family unit being cleft in two. Instead, it’s like they’re torn off into chunks, bits of themselves overlapping with bits of everyone else, but with edges that don’t line up nicely anymore. Even when the parents tell their kids they don’t need to pick sides, it feels like every choice you make, every little thing you say, betrays an allegiance that can be weaponised. It leaves people as a bunch of glued together fragments without a place to belong.

Some kids respond with a staunch loyalty to one parent, simplifying their experience into a straightforward tale of good and evil. Others are left adrift, lost in the knowledge that perhaps both parents are wrong, perhaps both have performed acts of cruelty against one another.

But it’s impossible to known which Kuroo is. You have your suspicions, of course, but you know better than to make assumptions.

You roll over onto your side, seeking out his shape in the dark.

“Hey, Tetsurou?”

“Yeah?” His voice is already laden with sleep.

“Thanks for opening up to me,” you murmur. “I really appreciate it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, a confused little chuckle. “Shouldn’t I be thanking you?”

It doesn’t sound like he’s teasing you. Thank God.

“Well, it can’t’ve been easy,” you say, trying to find the right words to express yourself. “So… thanks.”

He hums in response. “Yeah, well… thanks.”

Nothing more needs to be said.

As you finally drift off into an uneasy sleep, you hope that, at the very least, you’ve managed to bring your friend some comfort. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some heavy-ish themes in this chapter, specifically around the impact of divorce! just a little warning

“Tetsurou!” His mother calls as he’s a few steps away from the safety of the car.

“Hm?” He only half turns around, not willing to commit to the concept of walking back towards his mother’s house.

“Don’t forget to call.”

“Don’t worry,” you call out, “I’ll remind him.”

She smiles at you, raising a hand. “Thank you, dear.”

You’re rushed into the car before you know it, buckled in next to an exceedingly stressed Kuroo.

The two of you are already leaving later than he would’ve liked, and you can tell he’s desperate to get back to Tokyo.

So are you, honestly. It feels like you didn’t get enough sleep last night, even though you certifiably _did_.

His mother’s words keep playing over in your head. ‘No chemistry.’ ‘She’s no Ritsuko.’

Sure, you might not be his _real_ girlfriend, but you’re kind of pissed that you’re expected to live up to a set of standards you don’t even know about. Maybe you’re a bit too ticked off by the chemistry comment, but ‘no chemistry’ meant you weren’t playing your role well.

And if you were going to do _anything_ during this whole stupid pantomime, it would be playing your part _exceptionally_.

“You know,” Kuroo begins, clearing his throat and stirring you from your thoughts, “I don’t think I said thank you properly last night.”

You smile, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

“No, I…” There’s a creak in Kuroo’s voice, an uncertainty. Once, you might have found it unusual. After last night, not anymore. “I really appreciate you listening to me.”

You turn your head towards him, your smile softening.

Kuroo takes a deep breath, his fingers tensing around the steering wheel. He’s not looking at you (rightfully so – his attention _should_ be focused on the road), but his brow is furrowed and his bottom lip juts out ever so slightly.

“I know it sounds dumb,” he says quietly, voice barely louder than the humming of the car, “since they split ages ago, but… I’ve had a hard time believing that… that if I fell in love with someone, it’d last.”

It hurts. Deep and true and harsh.

You know that pain. You’ve felt it.

“That doesn’t sound dumb at all,” you murmur, voice soft as cotton.

“Thanks,” Kuroo chuckles.

Silence falls once more. You let it. If Kuroo needs time, you’re willing to give out. Trying to force things out of someone never did them any good. You wait patiently, watching the road.

“I just…” He sighs after a while, sitting up a little straight. “I don’t _know_ how to let someone in. Not in the way they want, anyway. I just…”

He chews on his lip, brow furrowed as he searches for his next words. 

“Because your parents split up?” You offer.

“Mhm,” he nods slowly. “I don’t begrudge them for it or anything… and I know it’s better than forcing themselves to stay in the relationship.”

Ah, the bargaining. You know it well. 

You tell yourself that what happened is better than nothing changing at all. But in the process, you forget you’re allowed to grieve. Allowed to be hurt. You push it away, cover it with a tatty veil, tell yourself that it’s _wrong_ to feel anything mildly negative about it.

But that’s how it builds. That’s how it spreads like moss over a stone wall, slow and deliberate and hard to notice at first. But then it’s in all of you – in how you see yourself, in how you see others, in how you love.

“But it’s affected you more than you realised, right?” You ask gently.

Kuroo nods again. He glances at you out the corner of his eye, vaguely suspicious.

“Yeah,” he swallows. “I’ve only begun unpacking it recently.”

“It can take a long time to work through something like that,” you murmur, fiddling with your fingers as you gaze down at your lap.

You’re not sure if you’ve even worked through it all. There are still days when the thought of ‘family’ makes you want to throw up, where the bitterness swallows you whole. Bitterness for _them_ , bitterness towards a society that places filial piety as a key virtue. How are you supposed to fulfil your ‘duty’ as a daughter when you still haven’t forgiven them for leaving you among the wreckage?

Maybe it’s time.

You take a deep breath, lifting your head to gaze out the window. “My parents are divorced, too.”

It’s a half-whispered confession. One you’re not sure if you should make.

You don’t know why it’s so hard to say that. It’s a simple fact – one that’s been written in stone since you were fourteen. And it’s not like Kuroo would _judge_ you for it.

But it’s still difficult. It still feels like a stain that won’t come out.

“Wait, really?” Kuroo’s eyes go wide, glancing between you and the road. “I’m so sorry—”

“What’re you apologising for?” You giggle.

Kuroo opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish. “Well I—I’ve been sitting here complaining about it, and—”

You wave a hand at him.

“It’s fine,” you smile. “I’m not close with either parent, so…”

The mood shifts. Have you made a mistake?

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo says. There’s a painful sincerity in his voice – evidence that he doesn’t know what that’s like.

You’re happy for him. Through it all, at least, he had his dad’s side of the family. It’s something to be grateful for; and while the abandoned child in you feels bitterly jealous at the thought of someone else getting support, you know better than to admonish a parent doing their best to keep their son above water.

“It’s fine,” you say, pressing your lips together and shaking your head. “They’re both overseas for the holidays, actually.”

That’s the real reason you’re able to actually _do_ this whole thing. There’re no parents to visit, no family to make merry with. There are friends you’d like to see, but most of their time was taken up by their own family festivities.

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Dad’s gone to Europe with his new partner, and mum’s visiting her new husband’s family in Australia.”

You know that they didn’t _need_ to ask you if you wanted to spend the holidays together. And you don’t expect it. Sometimes weeks go by with no contact, and it’s your fault as much as theirs.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t _hurt_. Being along during the holidays is always a reminder that things aren’t as they should be – you don’t have that nice little nuclear family you’re told to want, with parents who love (or at least, tolerate) each other so they can love you.

“I see…” Kuroo murmurs.

“So, you needing someone to stick their neck out for you ended up being pretty convenient,” you grin, trying to lighten the frankly dour atmosphere in the car.

“Where will you be during New Years?” He asks softly. There’s a certain melancholy to his face.

“Alone, at this rate.” You have friends to see, of course, but you know they can’t dedicate all their free time to you – and you’d never ask for that.

But you can’t reason your way out of loneliness, no matter how hard you try. Maybe you _weren’t_ trying hard enough. All you _can_ do is remind yourself that it wouldn’t be forever; the holidays would pass, things would return back to normal, and you won’t be lonely again for another year.

“You can stay with us, if you’d like.”

Kuroo’s voice is so soft. So kind.

It’s enough to make your chest feel all light and funny. Why, you don’t know.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

You’re not sure if you’ll take him up on the offer; you wouldn’t want to _impose_ , and it wasn’t part of your agreement. Not that you’re really sure _what’s_ covered by your agreement. You’re just coasting along, hoping for the best. Hoping you’re helpful.

Silence. A silence that weighs on your shoulders.

Did Kuroo feel… awkward, now he knew you came from a similar situation? Did he feel that he had no right to talk about it the way he was?

That wasn’t what you’d been trying to do at all. You didn’t want to rob him of his voice.

You take a deep breath, clutching your jacket with your hands. “I’m just saying that… I know where you’re coming from,” you swallow. “Kind of.”

Kuroo glances at you out the corner of his eye.

“It’s okay to take your time to work through these sorts of things,” you smile. “God knows I still am.”

He chuckles lightly. A good sign.

“It’s not easy,” you continue, “and I spent a lot of my teen years believing it didn’t affect me, that it hadn’t had that big of an impact, but…” One deep breath. “I used to besmirch the idea of family.”

It feels strange, admitting it out loud. You’d never done that before; not to someone outside of a therapeutic context. Not even your closest friends knew this was how you _really_ felt.

“I didn’t believe in it,” you swallow, “And now I know that’s because of how my parents treated each other.”

Fights. Pointless bickering. Nothing ever got _physical_ , but bitterness has a way of twisting people up on the inside, leaving them all tattered and miserable. A place where there’s no love at all, only two people running through the tired motions of affection, is no place to raise a child – let alone teach _them_ how to love.

And something else.

“And… and because of how they treated me through the divorce,” you sigh.

It sounds _worse_ when you phrase it like that.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Kuroo speaks slowly, each word careful and cautious, “what happened?”

You chew on your lip. “Well, there’s the two of them trying to pit me against the other.”

Kuroo groans.

“And I… I don’t know, I felt very neglected,” you swallow, doing your best to ignore the pressure in your chest, the lump in your throat, the way your gut twists. “They were both so focused on sorting themselves out that I got left behind in a lot of ways.”

“How old were you?”

“Oh, I was like… thirteen? Fourteen?” You can’t remember exactly. It’s been so _long_.

“Shit.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it really wasn’t a good time for it. But… I think that contributed to why I feel a bit distant from my family.”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment.

This wasn’t how you’d wanted this conversation to go. This was supposed to be about _Kuroo_ , helping him feel more at peace with what’d happened to him. It wasn’t supposed to be _your_ sob fest.

You open your eyes, looking straight at him. “Look, Tetsurou, it’s okay to take your time. And it’s good that you’re able to identify the causes of your troubles. That’s a great start.” you say as your heart races. Would he find this preachy? Nagging?

He just chuckles, shaking his head. “I just wish I could deal with them.”

“I think you’re doing better than you think you are,” you murmur, resisting the urge to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder. “And… if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Your heart feels like it’s running a damn marathon as he slows to a stop at the red traffic light. Have you overstepped? Are you being annoying? Worse yet, were you being invasive?

Kuroo turns to look at you properly for the first time on the drive.

He’s graced with the softest of smiles, his features much gentler than you’ve ever seen them. You’d almost believe there’s genuine affection in his eyes.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, reaching over to ruffle your hair.

You pout at him reflexively. You haven’t had your hair ruffled in _years_.

✧ ✧ ✧

The rest of the drive is quiet. Pleasantly so. Enough’s been said, and you feel no need to fill the silence.

Kuroo doesn’t either.

It’s nice to exist comfortably like this, the car’s heater working overtime as you trundle your way back to Tokyo. You drift in and out of a light sleep, bundled up in your jacket and your coat.

By the time Kuroo parks on your street, you’re ready to crawl into bed and hibernate for the rest of the month.

“Well,” Kuroo sighs. “Thanks again.”

You yawn, stretching your arms as far as the car will let you. “No problem.”

Kuroo wastes no time in getting out of the car and opening your door for you. You grimace as the cold air hits you; maybe you _will_ crawl straight into bed. What better way to spend your day off?

You grab your things and slowly walk yourself to the front of your apartment building. Kuroo accompanies you the whole way.

“I’ll see you soon,” he nods to you as you turn around.

“I look forward to it,” you smile. God forbid, you’re actually _excited_.

Kuroos eyes light up for a moment. Are his cheeks red from the cold, or something else?

A bubble in your gut and you’re desperate to get inside, away from this confounding, stupidly charming man. You give what you intend to be your final nod, turning to open the door, but—

“Oh,” Kuroo says. “One more thing.”

You turn and tilt your head at him.

Somehow, he makes the stark winter light suit him. He grins. It’s brilliant enough to make you blush.

“Thanks for opening up to me,” he smiles, “I really appreciate it.”


End file.
